


Vacation in Vermont

by jonius_belonius (Joni_Beloni)



Category: Suits (US TV)
Genre: Drama, Friendship, Humor, Infidelity, M/M, Marriage, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-10 14:45:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12914112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joni_Beloni/pseuds/jonius_belonius
Summary: They're all married, some to the right people, and some ... not so much. Some of them have moved away, or moved on, but they all still get together for one week every year, for what is supposed to be uncomplicated, nostalgic fun.  This year, with Harvey's marriage to Donna going down in flames, he is finding it increasingly difficult to hide his feelings for Mike.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tattooedsiren](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tattooedsiren/gifts).



> This story grew out of an offhand observation I made on tumbr over a year ago, about marriage, and yearly vacations, and key parties. The lovely and talented tattooedsiren put her own spin on that observation, which inspired me to write this. Not sure if this is exactly what you had in mind, but I hope you enjoy it nevertheless.
> 
> Things in canon changed since I started writing. I kept "The Donna," but switched Tara out for Sheila.
> 
> The three chapters are all written, although the last one needs a major overhaul. The plan is to have them all done and posted by next weekend.

It rained all the way to Vermont. Harvey insisted on driving, as he always did.  The van Mike had rented was an improvement over the one he’d inflicted upon them last year.  If this one had been any bigger, it would have qualified as a bus.  All eight of them fit comfortably, with no one having to crawl awkwardly into the back seat, which was good, because none of them were getting any younger.  A roomy carrier sat on the roof, easily accommodating all their luggage, from Rachel’s Louis Vuitton, to Mike’s canvas duffel bag.

The voice on the GPS informed them — feebly, since reception tended to be iffy in this part of the Green Mountains — that they should turn right in one thousand feet, and their destination would be on the left.

“Thank God,” grumbled Donna.  She turned in the front passenger seat to fix Mike with an exasperated glare.  “Did you purposely choose the most remote location you could find?”

“My year, my choice. And yes, I thought it might do us all good to unplug for a week, you most of all.”

“I can’t afford a week out of touch with my board, and my distributors.  We’re about to expand into Asia, and there are a thousand and one decisions I need to sign off on.”

“There’s supposed to be a computer somewhere in the place. An old Compaq or something.”

“The horror. I brought my own, obviously. I assume there will be wi-fi.”

“Dial-up.”

Donna’s eyes widened. “You have got to be shitting me.” She let out an annoyed huff and turned back around in her seat.

Harvey met Mike’s eyes in the rear-view mirror. Mike winked, and Harvey had to fight down a smile. He would have bet that not only did this place have wi-fi, it probably had more than one top of the line computer available for guests.

A narrow dirt road appeared on their right, and Harvey made the turn. The van bounced through deep ruts, while tree branches and masses of shrubbery scraped along the sides.  Just as he was beginning to fear that Mike had blown it this year, the vegetation fell away, revealing a huge lake, on the shore of which sat a rustic lodge, three stories high, built of pine logs, with a wide, wraparound porch lined with Adirondack chairs and small tables.

In the far back seat, Louis and Sheila left off canoodling long enough to coo appreciatively at the accommodations, and the view.

“Stellar work, Mike,” praised Louis.

Jessica hummed. “I’ll withhold judgment until I’ve seen the inside.”

That sounded like something the old Jessica might say. Unlike the old Jessica, she appeared happy and relaxed, holding Jeff’s hand, and resting her head on his shoulder.

As Harvey parked the car in front of the lodge, he wondered how the hell he was going to make it through the week. No, actually, he knew. He’d brought a case of scotch with him. Donna had bitched about that, just as she bitched about everything else these days. They’d agreed to put up a front though, this one last time, so they could enjoy the week with their friends. Once divorce proceedings officially began, who knew what fissures would open up in the group?

He caught Mike’s eye in the mirror again. Unlike in years past, Mike didn’t appear to be relishing his unofficial role of “cruise director.” He looked as on edge as Harvey felt. Harvey shifted his gaze to Rachel, seated next to Mike, and noted the amount of real estate she’d put between herself and her husband, her crossed arms, and the way she stared out the window, ignoring everyone else in the car. Interesting. She and Mike must have had another fight.

“Okay, guys,” said Harvey, trying to infuse his voice with enthusiasm he didn’t feel, “let’s unpack and see if this place lives up to the hype.” Which was funny, because no one was hyping anything.

 

The interior of the lodge, it turned out, was absolutely, over-the-top gorgeous. Even Donna was impressed. The rustic theme of the exterior continued inside. Exposed ceiling beams criss-crossed high above the great room, which was furnished in hunter green, and taupe, and burgundy.  Two enormous, overstuffed sofas, and one plush recliner provided a cozy gathering place in front of a brick fireplace. The great room opened directly to a kitchen which would have made a professional chef drool with envy.

The stairs led to the bedrooms, two on each of the remaining floors. Louis and Sheila claimed one of the third-floor bedrooms, and Jessica and Jeff the other.  That left Harvey and Donna sleeping right next door to Mike and Rachel.

 _Fan-fucking-tastic_.

Uncharitably, Harvey hoped whatever tiff they were having lasted the week, so he would be spared listening to them engaging in make-up sex — or any kind of sex. Seeing Rachel with Mike, wearing one another’s rings, was painful enough. He did not need to be witness — even auditory witness — to them making babies, or whatever.

Inside their room, he and Donna unpacked in silence. Or rather he unpacked while she checked her phone for bars (barely two, she griped), listened to her messages, checked and answered email and texts.

“Christ, Donna, we’re on vacation. Why don’t turn that damned thing off?

“Oh, like you wouldn’t respond if one of your important clients had a crisis.”

Next door, he heard a dresser drawer slam, Rachel’s voice raised briefly, and then silence.

“The difference,” he said, “is that those are actual crises, not some bullshit about whether ‘The Donna’ — ” he sneered and made air quotes “ — should add a new color choice.”

“At least my product helps people.”

“Oh, please. Don’t get me started.”

She shook her head, the corners of her mouth drawing down. “Started? You never stop. Would it kill you to show me the respect I deserve? Or at least fake it?”

Harvey opened his mouth to rip into her, and then shut it again. He hadn’t driven all the way to Bumfuck Vermont just to continue this stale argument. Both of them knew they’d never see eye to eye. And he’d long ago admitted to himself that the only reason he’d proposed to Donna was because watching Mike walk down the aisle with Rachel had gutted him so completely. He’d known in that moment he would never get what he wanted, so he’d settled for second best.

Or perhaps second best would have been simply remaining single.

He took a deep, steadying breath. “I apologize. By all means, continue your high-level discussions about the relative merits of blue-grey versus seafoam.”

“You condescending bastard. Why kind of bullshit apology is that?”

She was right. He just couldn’t seem to help himself. They’d already agreed that they would announce their separation when they returned to New York. All they needed to do was make it through this week without murdering one another.

He held out a placating hand. “Fine. I’m sorry. I apologize for my apology, and anything else I’ve done wrong in the last few minutes.”

Infuriatingly, while he talked, she was already back to checking her phone.

“I’m going to get a drink,” he announced.

Donna looked up from her phone long enough to sneer, “Oh, good. How would I ever recognize you without a drink in your hand?”

He refused to rise to the bait again, and exited the room.

Downstairs, Harvey found Mike in the kitchen with Jessica and Jeff, where they were putting together dinner.  Traditionally everyone brought an assigned dish for the first night (except when Donna or Jeff booked them into a fancy resort).  He guessed the Litts were upstairs testing the structural integrity of their bed.  He’d left Donna on the phone with Benjamin and her VP of Operations.  That left one person unaccounted for.

“Where’s Rachel?” he asked Mike, sliding in next to him to lean his hip on the kitchen counter, and eying Mike’s famous spaghetti sauce where it bubbled away on the stove.

Mike shrugged.  After tasting the sauce, he sprinkled in more fresh herbs, plus a pinch of some spice he’d brought with him.  “She mentioned something about washing the stink of travel of her.”

“It was only a four hour drive.”

Mike’s mouth twisted in what looked like scorn, before reforming into a bland smile.  “She likes her bubble baths.  What can I say?  Don’t worry.  She’ll be down in time for dinner, if only because she couldn’t bear to miss an opportunity to lecture us on the amazing and obscure wine she’s paired with dinner.” He winced.  “Sorry. That came out bitchier than I intended.”

In Harvey’s opinion, Mike had been just the right amount of bitchy, but he didn’t say so. Instead, he turned to Jessica and Jeff, who were working together to assemble a salad.  “How is Chicago?  Is your firm still doing well?”

Jessica and Jeff exchanged a complicated look, and then Jeff answered for both of them.  “It’s going great. We’ve landed three Fortune 500 clients in the last year.  We’ve hired some extremely promising associates.”

“All legitimate,” Jessica interjected.

“Really?” said Mike and Harvey in unison.

“Sorry,” she said, not sounding at all sorry.

“Anyway,” continued Jeff, “we’ve run into a bit of a … situation.  Both of us have been approached to run for alderman in our ward.”

“Against each other?” Harvey couldn’t keep the amusement from his voice.

“No,” said Jeff.  “We wouldn’t do that.  One politician in the family will be plenty.  We’ve agreed that if one of us hasn’t convinced the other to drop out by the time we get back, we’re going to flip a coin.”

Mike held up the wooden spoon he’d been using to stir the sauce, signaling that they should all be quiet.  “Do you hear that?”

Harvey cocked his head to listen, and there it was: the telltale, rhythmic squeak of bed springs, accompanied by the sharp rap of a headboard against the wall. “Louis and Sheila.”

“Gross,” said Mike.

“It could be Donna and Rachel,” suggested Jeff, and then staggered slightly when Jessica punched him in the arm.  “Just saying,” he muttered.

“Let’s put on some music,” said Mike.  “I saw a Bluetooth speaker over by the green sofa.”

They all looked expectantly at Harvey, the only one of them not currently involved in preparing food.  He sighed and carried his phone over to the green couch and located the small speaker.  Even though he preferred a turntable and vinyl, he kept a respectable collection of music on iTunes.  He fumbled with his phone for a few moments, trying to pair to it the speaker, cursing under his breath.

Long fingers, smelling faintly of tomatoes and garlic, took possession of his phone. Mike stood next to him, shoulders brushing Harvey’s as he rapidly paired phone and speaker, selected Harvey’s favorites play list, and handed the phone back to him. Soft R&B swelled and filled the room.

Harvey cleared his suddenly dry throat. “Thanks.”

Mike gave him a crooked smile. “Technology. Let it be your friend.”

 _I_ _’d rather it was more than a friend,_ thought Harvey, but he didn’t mean the phone.

 

Dinner was, as usual, a lively affair. Rachel arrived in time to pour the wine (and as Mike had predicted, to lecture them all on its history, and notes, and legs).  Louis and Sheila were in charge of dessert. They practically floated down the stairs, holding hands, Sheila appearing as stern and inscrutable as ever, and Louis grinning so hard his cheeks nearly disappeared into his hairy ears. 

Sickening as the display was, Harvey didn’t begrudge Louis his domestic bliss.  He’d paid his dues, in the form of too many lonely, frustrated years.  It didn’t make him a better lawyer — he’d always been excellent — but it had noticeably reduced his jealous, boneheaded attempts to one-up Harvey.

The seven people at the table were involved in a friendly and hilarious debate over which one of them would make the best politician, when Donna finally strolled downstairs to grace them with her presence.

“Finished conquering the world?” asked Harvey, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

She took the chair next to him, the only seat available.  “Some of us slow down with age.  Me? I’m just getting started.

A raucous chorus of “Ooohhhs,” echoed around the table.

Harvey pressed his lips together to hold back his cutting reply. Talk continued as if everyone had immediately dismissed the tension between them.  Harvey tossed back his glass of wine.  His eyes went automatically across the table to Mike, and found him staring back at him.  Harvey managed a reasonably natural smile.  He wished they were alone together, so they could talk, and tease one another like they used to, joking easily, perhaps unburdening themselves. 

Mike blinked slowly, almost as if sending a silent signal, and then smiled at Harvey, before returning to the conversation.  After that, Harvey had difficulty taking his eyes off Mike for more than a few seconds. Donna noticed, and narrowed her eyes, signaling that he would be hearing plenty regarding her favorite grievance when they retired to their bedroom. He made up his mind to stay downstairs for as long as he could.

 

 

Predictably, Mike had brought his collection of classic board games. After dinner (Louis’ tiramisu, which they all agreed was his best yet), they gathered in the great room to play.  Jessica built a fire, and Mike set up the Trivial Pursuit board.

“You know,” said Jeff, as if it had just occurred to him (it hadn’t, he made the same argument every year), “this isn’t exactly fair, with Mike playing. I’ll bet he’s memorized every answer in the deck.”

“Which is why,” said Mike patiently, “I’ll sit this game out.  Or rather, stand … out in the kitchen, where I’ll be washing the dishes.”

Harvey stood up. “I’ll dry.”

The remaining six players stared at him in surprise. Mike’s dish washing on the first night was standard procedure. Harvey joining him? Not so much. He ignored their protests, and moved to the kitchen. Mike’s wide smile and sparkling eyes did strange things to his stomach and chest. Everyone else faded into the background.

“You hate the game that much?” Mike teased.

“You need to update your collection,” Harvey shot back.

“I’ll leave that to you. It’s not so easy on my salary.” He turned on the hot water to fill half the sink, and tossed Harvey a dish towel.

“That could be rectified, any time you say the word.”

He’d fought to help Mike become a legitimate lawyer, only to have his ridiculously generous job offer get thrown back in his face.  It had hurt then, and he still believed Mike had made the wrong decision. Harvey would never cease asking him to come back. For now, though, seeing the sudden tension in Mike’s shoulders, he let it drop, instead, asking, “How are things at the clinic?”

“Good. Too many clients. Not enough money. The usual.” He handed Harvey a dripping plate. “Nathan’s leaving.”

Harvey’s eyebrows lifted. “Did he finally decide he wanted to make a decent living?”

“That’s probably part of it. He was also getting burnt out.”

“Who wouldn’t? That has to be one of the most thankless jobs I could imagine.”

Mike handed him the next plate, and became intensely focused on the sudsy water, the stack of dishes, and the wet slide of the dish scrubber. “It’s important work,” he finally said.

Harvey’s heart sank as he realized what Mike wasn’t telling him. “You took his job,” he said, voice flat.

“There wasn’t anyone else. Oliver moved to Philadelphia. All that’s left are a handful of first years and three paralegals. They’re all dedicated workers, and their hearts are in the right place. What else could I do but step up?”

“What could you do? You could have walked away. You’ve put in seven years at that place.  How long do you plan to martyr yourself?”

“I don’t see it that way. I’m right where I want to be.”

“What does Rachel say about it?”

Mike’s features tightened, and he paid too much attention to the spaghetti pot in the sink, washing it over and over again. “It wasn’t her decision to make.”

“Oh? She’s the primary breadwinner, isn’t she? Without her, you couldn’t even afford a roof over your head.”

A bitter laugh from Mike. “Look who’s talking. How long ago did Donna’s earnings eclipse yours?”

“It’s not the same thing.” Was it? Was their marriage failing because of his resentment over her growing net worth? Half a second of consideration told him that, no, that was not the reason. The reason, he knew, was that they simply were not meant to be together, not in that way. They should have remained friends. He’d long known that Donna wanted more from him, at least back then, but this was on him. She had never been the one he wanted, but he’d proposed to her just the same. He’d wasted those years, for himself, and for Donna, who could have found someone else by now.

Mechanically, he held out his hand for the next dish. Instead of glass or china, warm, wet, soapy flesh touched his hand. His gaze snapped over to find Mike squeezing his fingers, in a gesture of comfort, or apology. Harvey had just enough time to order himself not to react, to not be too obvious, when Mike removed his hand.

“I don’t want to argue with you,” Mike said. “I just want this week to …” He gave a huff of laughter and shook his head. “We’re on vacation. We’re all together again. Let’s have a good time.”

A roar of laughter erupted from the game players, followed by animated voices, talking over one another. Jessica and Louis were arguing about something, while the others were breathless with laughter. Mike turned to watch, while Harvey watched Mike, who looked sad and thoughtful.

 _Shit,_ Harvey realized, _he still blames himself for breaking up the firm._ He searched for words comforting enough to ease Mike’s guilt, but before he could get them out, Mike turned to him with an intense, searching gaze.

“Harvey, are you happy?”

He froze. “What? Of course.” He peered at Mike’s face. “Aren’t you?”

Mike shrugged. Lowering his voice, so that Harvey had to lean in to hear him, he said, “We fight all the time. She’d never say so, but I’m certain Rachel is embarrassed by what I do for a living. I never used to believe she was a snob, but ever since she went to work for her father, she’s hated it when I surprise her at work, because that means she has to introduce me to people, who invariably ask which firm I work for. And now that she’s made partner, it’s even more noticeable.”

“That’s right. I read about that. I should congratulate her.”

As if Harvey hadn’t spoken, Mike continued, “She works late every night, every weekend, sometimes doesn’t even make it home at all.”

“Come on, Mike. That’s the job. How many times did you do the same thing?”

“I’m pretty sure she had an affair last year.”

Anger flared inside of Harvey, directed at Rachel. He finished drying the silverware, as he searched for a way to respond to Mike’s statement. “You’re pretty sure. If you want, I could ask Vanessa to check into it for you.”

“Maybe I don’t want to know. It’s done now, anyway.” And they were still together, so he must have forgiven her.

Neither spoke for a few minutes as they worked together to put the dishes away, dancing around one another to get to the right cupboard or drawer, as synchronized as they’d been in court, or in a client meeting. When they’d finished, Harvey reached for the case of scotch which sat on the counter. He pulled out a bottle of Macallan and raised an inquiring eyebrow at Mike.

“God, yes.” Mike reached into the cupboard above him for two glasses, and watched Harvey closely as he opened the bottle and poured. 

They both leaned back against the counter top, facing the great room, witnessing the spectacle of Sheila sitting in Louis’ lap, chewing on his earlobe.

“Some things,” said Mike, grimacing, “are simply not meant to be shared in public.”

“Did you ever get the impression that Sheila is one kinky little kitten?”

Mike choked on his scotch, sputtering with laughter.

“I mean,” Harvey went on, “I suppose we should be grateful that all they engage in is a little slap and tickle in front of us. The first year we all got together, I half-expected her to organize a key party.”

“Oh, my God. Can you imagine?”

They stood side by side, imagining it, so close that Harvey could feel Mike’s warmth. He wrapped both hands around his glass to prevent himself from reaching over and touching him.

“Who would you want to get?” asked Mike.

Harvey gave him a confused look. What had they been talking about? Oh, right. “Wow. That’s a loaded question.”

“How hard could it be? There’s Jessica, Rachel, and Sheila. Not a bad choice among them.”

With a smile playing on his lips, Harvey countered, “Or Donna, for you. But why be so limiting?”

“What do you mean? What’s the point, if I just end up with Rachel?”

“Think, Mike. Think outside the box.”

Several seconds passed before understanding dawned. Mike’s face went blank, and then his eyes widened, and he stared at Harvey, who could almost hear the gears in his brain whirring and grinding away. 

“Now who would you choose?” Harvey asked. “Louis, or Jeff?” _Or me?_

Mike managed to hold his gaze for only a few seconds, before he blushed and turned his head.  “You’re thinking I’ll say Jeff.”

“Am I?”

“Don’t underestimate Louis. He has his share of endearing qualities. Sheila never seems to grow tired of him, or to have any complaints in the, er, boudoir.”

Harvey smiled over the rim of his glass. “Is it weird that I’m a little turned on by your casual use of the term, ‘boudoir’?”

He could clearly see the sudden dilation of Mike’s pupils. Thus encouraged, and more than a little drunk, he turned his body toward Mike’s, dividing his gaze between Mike’s mouth and his blue eyes.  “If we all put our keys in a bowl, I would not want to draw Rachel, or Sheila or Jessica. I absolutely would not want to draw Donna.”

“So …”

“Or Jeff.” He moved his face closer to Mike’s, and whispered, “Or Louis.”

Mike sucked in a quick breath. The counter was behind him, barring retreat, so he stepped sideways, moving out of range of …

What had Harvey been about to do? Was he drunk enough that he would have actually kissed Mike in full view of both their wives? When he cast a guilty look over at the group, he discovered both Donna and Rachel looking back at him, both with identical looks on their faces: anger, mixed with resignation.

 _Shit_. What had he been thinking? No, the problem was, he hadn’t been thinking at all. He’d done all his thinking in the past year, as his and Donna’s marriage unraveled, and he’d imagined what he might do if Mike was ever free of Rachel.

He wasn’t free, though. He was married. They might fight sometimes, but all couples did. Unlike Harvey, he wasn’t on the verge of divorce. Harvey didn’t need to tap the brakes here, he needed to fucking slam them all the way down to the floor. He watched Mike walk over to the game, and wedge himself between Rachel and Donna. He snaked an arm around his wife’s waist and kissed her on the temple. After only a minute’s hesitation, she relaxed, leaning into him.

Harvey had no wish to witness their obvious affection for one another, and even less desire to find himself on the receiving end of the inevitable smug, arch look from Rachel.  He poured himself another drink, grabbed the bottle, and escaped outside to sit on the porch and watch the last of the rain fall.

 

 

Eventually, the rain stopped, and the gibbous moon peaked out from behind retreating clouds, reflecting on the dark surface of the lake.  Louis poked his head through the door, and squinted out at Harvey. “We’re about to start a game of cutthroat Monopoly.”

“Cutthroat Monopoly? Isn’t that redundant?”

“So, report it to the Department of Redundancy Department.”

That surprised a laugh out of Harvey, breaking his gloomy mood. “Been working on those cultural references, I see.  All right. I’ll play, but only if I get to be the car.”

“Mike’s already reserved it for you.”

“Has he?” Mike, not Donna. Typical.

Following Louis inside, he noted that Jessica and Jeff were no longer downstairs. He didn’t blame them for retiring earlier than the rest of them, since they’d had further to travel than anyone else. Mike and Rachel sat together on one couch, Louis and Sheila on the other, and Donna sat on the floor, leaning near Rachel’s legs.

After a moment’s consideration, Harvey took the recliner. Having already designated herself the banker, Donna counted out their opening balances. They rolled the dice to see who would go first, and play began.

Harvey couldn’t recall ever playing a game of Monopoly that didn’t devolve into tears (in the case of his childhood — and for the record, they had been Marcus’s tears, not his), or a heated argument, or any number of things being flung angrily across the room, up to and including the entire board, complete with game pieces, cards, houses, and hotels.

Tonight’s game started out amicably enough.  They all acquired decent properties on their first couple of trips around the board, with no one competing for a particular color. Sheila snapped up two railroads and one utility on her first pass through. Louis congratulated her by sticking his tongue down her throat and thrusting a hand under her shirt to feel her up.

“Anyway,” said Mike, rolling his eyes, and throwing the dice to end up on Boardwalk. He’d been busy buying up other properties, and did not have sufficient cash to buy the game’s most expensive square.

Harvey had just collected on a particularly favorable Community Chest card, and casually passed Mike a hundred-dollar bill. Immediately, both Donna and Rachel voiced their displeasure.

“You can’t do that,” said Rachel. “It’s totally against the rules.”

Harvey frowned at her. “Show me where it says that.”

“She can’t,” Mike interjected. “Trust me, the rules never took this sort of thing into account.”

Alternating her displeased glare between Harvey and Mike, Donna said, “That’s because everyone knows the game is about amassing wealth and property, not succumbing to sentiment, and trying to save the world.”

“You say that like’s it a bad thing,” replied Mike. “If more people succumbed to sentiment, the world would be a better place for it.”

Donna held out her hand, palm forward, in a gesture meant to shush Mike. “The adults are talking, honey.”

“Excuse me?”

Rachel snorted a laugh into her palm, earning her an outraged glare from Mike. “Well, she’s right,” Rachel giggled. “You don’t exactly have a grownup job.”

Irritated on Mike’s behalf, Harvey plucked Rachel’s battleship off the board, and flicked it at her head.

“Hey!”

“Apologize to Mike.”

“Who the hell do you think you are to tell me how to treat my husband?”

With eyes wide, Mike appeared to be wordlessly warning Harvey to back off. Harvey did not back off. “I’m his friend, who would never belittle the work that he does at the clinic.” Which wasn’t precisely true, but she’d gotten his back up, and now he was itching for a fight.

Sheila slid off Louis’s lap and stood up, hands on hips, looking like an enraged headmistress in her thick, black-framed glasses. “Calm down.  All of you. Is this really how you talk to your friends? Or you spouses?”

Harvey had never considered Rachel a friend, and he never would. Sheila did have a point, however. He was about to say as much, when Donna decided to pipe up.

“Don’t mind Harvey,” she said. “Turns out, he’s a mean drunk.”

“I — _what_? That is bullshit, and you know it.” He reviewed everything he’d said to Rachel, and concluded that he hadn’t been out of line at all.

Donna rose slowly to her feet. “There are witnesses.”

“To what? I was only defending Mike.”

“Witnesses to you, assaulting Rachel with a battleship.”

“Oh, excuse the fuck out of me. Rachel? Are you okay? Would you like me to call the EMT’s to come out here and take a look at your non-existent boo-boo?”

Looking utterly exhausted, Rachel shook her head. “You know what? I’m done with this stupid game. I’m going to bed.” She got up, grabbed a half-empty wine bottle, and stomped (daintily) up the stairs.

Donna glared at Harvey, as if this was all his fault. “Well,” she bit out, “allow me to make it official.” She bent down and flipped the board onto the floor.

“And that,” announced Louis, “is why I hate this fucking game.” He stood and helped Sheila to her feet. “Peace out, bros … and Donna. See you in the morning.”

“And then there were three,” whispered Mike.

“Make that two. I’ve got phone calls and emails to answer.” Seconds later, Donna had disappeared up the stairs, and Harvey was alone with Mike.

The regarded one another in silence.

“Maybe you’re right,” Mike finally said.

“About what?”

“I need to update my board game collection.”

 

 

Harvey was in no hurry to get upstairs and deal with Donna. Mike didn’t say as much, but he seemed to be just as reluctant to face his own wife.

The lodge came equipped with a flat screen television, which Mike and Harvey discovered hidden behind sliding wooden doors in the great room wall. There was no cable hooked up, but the DVD collection was passable. After a brief negotiation, they agreed on an action movie, popped some popcorn, and settled in to see who could stall the longest before climbing the stairs.

“I guess I should apologize,” Harvey finally admitted, half an hour into the movie. 

“For what?”

“Treating Rachel like that. Not my place.”

“Throwing a game piece at her was a tad petty, but I appreciated the support otherwise. She might actually listen to you.”

“She doesn’t listen to you?”

Mike shrugged. “Only as a last resort.”

“Huh. Sorry.”

“Don’t be. Marriage, am I right?”

Harvey stuffed a handful of popcorn in his mouth, giving himself time to mull over the wisdom of filling Mike in on his troubles with Donna.  Onscreen, a complicated looking metal creature was lasered in half. Harvey swallowed noisily, and sipped his scotch.

“No one else knows this,” he said finally, “but Donna and I are unofficially separated. We’re making it official after we get home from this trip.”

Mike stared at him. “Huh,” he said.

“That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

“Come on, Harvey, it’s not exactly surprising. Everyone’s noticed how you two have transformed into the Battling Bickersons lately.”

“They have?”

“Oh, yeah.”

Harvey sank further into the sofa, more depressed now than he’d been a few minutes earlier. “Well. We gave it a shot.”

Mike toasted him silently from the other sofa.

 

 

The movie ended, which should have been their cue to call it a night, and head upstairs. Instead, “You want another drink?” asked Harvey.

Mike shook his head. “Pass.” He bit his lip. “Can I ask you something?”

“You just did.”

An eye roll from Mike. “That just never gets old.”

“Sorry. What do you want to ask?”

More lip biting, as Mike stared at the floor, seeming to struggle to work up his courage. “About earlier.”

 _Oh. Right_. Harvey had nearly managed to forget his ill-advised flirting — or whatever that had been. “Look, I was just …” How to finish that sentence? Anything he might say felt like a potential trap.

“You were just what? Teasing me? Trying to get a rise out of me?” Mike paused. “Making some sort of half-assed declaration?”

Closing his eyes, Harvey leaned his head on the back of the sofa. “I don’t know what the hell I was doing. I’m sorry if I offended you.”

“I wasn’t offended.”

A whisper of sound as Mike stood. Harvey expected he would climb the stairs and leave him alone.  Instead, he felt the sofa cushion next to his dip under Mike’s weight. Warm lips pressed to his, and a strong hand held the side of his neck. Shocked, Harvey’s eyes flew open. While he was trying to process what was happening, and decide whether to deepen the kiss, or protest, or freeze and await Mike’s next move, the kiss ended. Mike was on his feet, and halfway up the stairs, before Harvey had the presence of mind to reach for him, to keep him there beside him.

“Mike.”

No reply. Mike was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

It wasn’t cowardice that had Harvey spending the night on the sofa.

Not entirely.

Following Mike’s departure, he put on another movie, poured himself a fresh drink, and concentrated on not thinking about what had just happened, until the onscreen explosions lulled him to sleep.

Thankfully, the sofa was insanely comfortable, so he only woke up with a vicious hangover, and not a stiff neck or aching back. Hearing voices in the kitchen, he squinted over to see Jeff and Jessica, dressed in matching jogging gear, obviously having just returned from a run.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he croaked, sitting up and wincing at the pounding in his head. “If it’s …” He glanced at his watch. “If it’s seven o’clock here, it’s six in Chicago. You do get what a vacation is, right?”

“We do,” said Jessica, “which is why we slept in. You know what they say.”

He frowned. “The early bird gets the worm? But who wants a fucking worm, anyway? Is that coffee I smell?”

“Yes, and you look like you could use a cup, or ten. Jeff and I are going to start breakfast. You probably have time to go upstairs and shower before it’s ready.”

“Okay, Mom,” he muttered, debating between the coffee and the shower. He sniffed his shirt, smelling sofa and scotch, and decided on the shower.

He passed Louis and Sheila on the stairs, holding hands and grinning their stupid faces off. He grimaced in response to their chirpy good mornings. In his and Donna’s bedroom, he discovered that she had commandeered a table in the corner for her laptop. Still in her bathrobe, she had her headset on, and was Skyping with someone — probably Benjamin. The look she directed his way was distinctly chilly, but she didn’t interrupt her on-line conversation to speak to him.

Harvey grabbed a towel, shaving kit, and his shampoo, and headed for the bathroom next door, which they shared with the other bedroom on that floor. He waited for a couple of minutes in front of the closed door, consulting his watch, and growing increasingly impatient. He knocked sharply, waited another minute, and knocked again. “Hey,” he called out, “communal bathroom,” while picturing Rachel in there, luxuriating in another bubble bath, or perfecting her hair and makeup — like the squirrels and barn swallows gave a shit how she looked.

The door opened, and Mike stepped out, naked except for the towel around his waist, and still wet from his shower. _Gorgeous._ Harvey had a sudden, jarring image of their little incident from the night before. He’d confessed something to Mike he’d never meant to, and Mike … _Mike had kissed him._

“Oh,” said Harvey. “Hey. Good morning.”

Looking every bit as out of sorts as Harvey felt, Mike brushed past him without speaking, his mouth pressed into a thin, annoyed curve. Harvey watched Mike’s bedroom door close behind him, and bit back a groan. This was going to be a long week. At that moment, he couldn’t remember why they all still bothered with these yearly reunions.

As he stood in front of the bathroom, Rachel poked her head out the same door Mike had entered. “Sorry,” said Harvey, not sorry at all, “I’m just going in. I might be a while.”

She gave him a sweetly malevolent smile. “No problem. I heard the others go downstairs already. I’ll use the third-floor bathroom. I hope there’s enough hot water left for both of us.” She slipped past him, and pounded up the stairs.

Ugh. He’d never understood what Mike saw in her. Harvey slammed the bathroom door behind himself, and heard an answering slam directly above him. Almost immediately, the pipes creaked as the upstairs shower was turned on. Harvey hurried to relieve himself, hesitated, and then meanly, with malice aforethought, flushed. The distinct shriek above him was satisfying enough that he didn’t even mind when the hot water ran out halfway through his shower.

 

 

Jeff and Jessica were quite the team, Harvey thought sourly. Their jogging suits matched down to the monogrammed “J” over the left breast, their running shoes matched, and the pancakes and fried eggs they turned out together were perfect, matching rounds of uniform diameter. He sipped his coffee, and declined seconds. From where he sat at the head of the table, he could watch them all.

Louis and Sheila somehow managed to make it through the meal without letting go of one another’s hands. They were engaged in an earnest discussion with Mike about the hike he’d planned for them all today, going over the route, the supplies they would need to take with them, and appropriate attire. Rachel, appearing as bored as Harvey, sipped the espresso she’d made with the fancy machine she’d carted up here with her, and carefully avoided making eye contact with Harvey.

Donna finally put in an appearance halfway through breakfast. She must have wrapped up her business, at least for the time being, because she was dressed for the hike in her sporty clothes from the Ralph Lauren Summers in Vermont collection, or some shit like that.

Mike had yet to speak to Harvey this morning, which was hardly fair. Mike had kissed him, not the other way around. Perhaps he was embarrassed, or disgusted, which seemed unlikely, since Harvey was an excellent kisser. Of course, he hadn’t been given sufficient time to prove that last night. Mike had swooped in, and swooped back out, too fast for Harvey to demonstrate what he could do.

Observing Rachel’s coldness, both towards himself, and towards Mike, Harvey wondered if Mike had confessed his little indiscretion to her. That sounded like something Mike might do. Although, now that he thought about it, Rachel’s attitude towards Harvey wasn’t exactly anything new.

She’d used Mike’s decision to work exclusively for the clinic as her excuse to make her own departure from the firm. He’d always suspected that she’d been considering a move to her father’s firm long before she left her letter of resignation on his desk. He rarely saw her more than once a year, and while there were enough people around this week to serve as a buffer between them, and he would have ignored her in any case, it occurred to him belatedly, as he mulled it over now, that Rachel did not like him either.

He was okay with that, but regardless of their feelings toward one another, it didn’t make it right for Mike to be cheating on her, even in such a brief, transient manner. Except, she’d cheated on him first.  Possibly. Even if she had, Mike seemed to have come to terms with it.

Harvey and Donna’s marriage might be on the verge of dissolution, but Mike and Rachel were still solid. Weren’t they? Even as he thought this, he noted their respective body language, the way they never addressed one another directly, and most telling of all, the barely disguised looks of contempt that Rachel sent in Mike’s direction when he wasn’t looking. Harvey knew that look.  It was the same one Donna had been giving him for the past year or more.

Interesting, but not definitive proof of an impending breakup. There likely existed couples who had shared that look for half a century or more, and who went to their graves hours or days apart, with friends and relatives rhapsodizing about what a great love story theirs had been.

He suppressed a shudder as he imagined staying with Donna for that long. Nope. He’d rather stab himself in the face than live such a miserable, joyless existence. Mike and Rachel, however, would have to make their own choices, without any interference from him.

Almost as if Mike knew what was on Harvey’s mind, he turned and gave him a long considering look.

“So,” Mike said, “are you down for a hike, Harvey?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” He bared his teeth at Mike.

“Yay,” said Louis, clapping his hands together. “Isn’t this fun? Aren’t we having fun?”

Nobody responded, except Sheila, who patted his hand and gave him a noisy, moist kiss on the cheek.

 

******

 

“Seriously, Mike, I can walk on my own.”

Mike had his shoulder in Harvey’s armpit, man-handling him down the steep trail.

“You need to keep your weight off your ankle,” Mike insisted again. “We’re almost there, and then you’re going to lie down and apply ice.”

“It’s not that bad.” In truth, his ankle hurt like a sonofabitch, but having Mike pressed against his side like this was proving to be the greater source of torture.

“Would you rather I throw you over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes?”

Harvey barked out a laugh. “Like you even could.” He couldn’t, could he? Harvey slid his eyes to the right for a view of Mike’s broad shoulders, and had to admit to himself that this was not the skinny kid he’d met all those years ago, who’d looked about twelve years old, and as if a stiff breeze could have knocked him over.

“Just — ” Mike grunted as the ground abruptly leveled out, causing him to stumble. He never let go of Harvey, though, and kept hustling him toward the lodge.

Judging that arguing was pointless, Harvey limped along beside him, cursing himself for his earlier clumsiness. The trail Mike had chosen had not been terribly challenging. All eight of them had walked to the trail head, laughing, telling jokes, enjoying the cool, misty morning, and anticipating what promised to be a lovely, sunny day.

As they began to climb, Mike, just behind Harvey, said something about the clinic, and Nathan, which Harvey didn’t quite catch. He’d turned his head to ask him to repeat it, and stepped wrong on an exposed root, twisting his ankle. Losing the fight for balance, he pitched forward and fell to the ground, scraping his hand, and banging his knee.

Embarrassed, Harvey had jumped back to his feet, but yelped when he tried to put weight on his injured ankle. Everyone gathered around, offering suggestions. Even Donna had been warmly solicitous. Rachel suggested they cancel the rest of the hike, but Harvey urged them to continue. He could get back on his own. He’d convinced everyone but Mike, who, ignoring both Harvey’s and Rachel’s objections, had stepped in to help him.

Now, here they were, alone in the lodge. If the rest of the group completed the itinerary Mike had set out, they would likely be gone until nearly dinnertime.

Mike got Harvey situated on the couch (the same one Harvey had slept on), pulled off his shoes and socks, and went to the kitchen. “I think you’ll feel better once we get the swelling down,” he said over his shoulder, filling a dish towel with ice.

Harvey bit down on the instinctive, off-color reply. It wasn’t exactly a prime “that’s what she said” set-up, but it was close.

Relaxing into the cushions, he watched Mike press the ice to his ankle. As soon as he let go, it slipped off. He attempted to balance it, with the same result.

“Maybe some duct tape would help,” Harvey suggested.

Mike considered the problem for a few seconds, and then tapped Harvey’s good leg. “Lift up,” he ordered. Harvey raised both legs, and Mike slid underneath them, resting them in his lap, and reapplied the ice. “How’s that feel?”

“Ah. Good?” His ankle still hurt, but being allowed to touch Mike in any way was heaven. Unlike last night, he was sober, and so didn’t blurt out any foolish declarations, or test Mike by rubbing his heel against his crotch. “I’ll, uh, just mention the duct tape idea one more time.”

“Hush. It’s my fault you hurt yourself.”

“No, it isn’t. That was all me.”

“The hike was my idea.”

“To which we all agreed. I tripped. It was an accident.” He smiled at Mike. “I absolve you.”

Mike expression lightened. “I know. You always do.”

He sounded so sad, and so fond at the same time, that something in Harvey’s chest twinged. He had no reply to that, at least nothing that wouldn’t tear open all his carefully sewn up emotions, and expose them to the unforgiving light of day.

They sat in silence, until Harvey began feeling twitchy. “There’s still a movie in the DVD player,” he said. “I may have fallen asleep in the middle of it.”

Mike nodded, and leaned forward to pick the remote up from the coffee table. In doing so, he jostled Harvey’s ankle, causing him to gasp involuntarily. Mike froze, hands warm on Harvey’s legs. “Are you all right?”

“Yes.” But he wasn’t. He was about as far from all right as a person could be.

 

 

Dinner that night was more subdued. Rachel had brought a seafood casserole, and they finished off the salad and tiramisu from the night before. Nobody suggested pulling out the board games. Donna went upstairs right after dinner, followed by Louis and Sheila.

“My God,” laughed Rachel. “Those two.”

Jessica shook her head, eyes sparkling. “Tell me about it. Try staying next door to them. They were at it for hours. I’m pretty sure I heard clanking.”

“The worst part,” said Jeff, “was hearing him call her ‘Mommy’.”

“No,” Jessica countered, “that would be when she declared him in contempt of court.”

Harvey laughed along with the others, feeling guilty as he did so. The Sazs-Litts weren’t hurting anyone by indulging in … whatever it was they were indulging in. He’d been proud of Louis when he’d finally gone after what he wanted, and convinced Sheila to give him another try before she walked down the aisle with someone else. He’d been much easier to deal with at work since then.

Harvey could only wish, far too long after the fact for it to matter, that he’d had the same courage where Mike was concerned.

Rachel prodded Mike’s shoulder. “So, what else is there to do around here?”

“Aw, is my baby bored?” He draped an arm around her shoulder, and kissed her cheek.

Harvey looked away, thinking he’d rather watch Louis and Sheila role play Baby Boy and the Bad Judge — or whatever — than see Mike and Rachel’s gross PDA’s. “There are a dozen or so movies over there,” he said, waving vaguely at the cabinet. “I say we hunker down with booze, popcorn … or wait a second. I saw a fire pit out back. Why don’t we light it up and … do bonfire things.”

Mike shook his head condescendingly. “It’s not going to be a bonfire. We don’t want the fire department out here. Other than that, it sounds like a solid plan. Oh, and FYI, I brought the fixings for s’mores.”

That sealed it. All five adult persons in the room suddenly became absurdly excited about the idea of toasting marshmallows and squishing them between graham crackers, atop a hunk of cheap chocolate.

 

 

Rachel got the fire going, Jeff and Jessica rounded up five sticks, and Mike used his Swiss Army knife to whittle a point on the end of each one. Marshmallows were passed around, and the roasting competition began. And yes, it was a competition. Each person had what they considered a fool-proof method, and a preferred level of doneness.

On the extreme ends of the spectrum were Jeff and Mike. The former kept his marshmallow a few inches from the flame, turning it in excruciatingly slow motion, like a miniature spit, so that it browned evenly on every side. Mike, on the other hand, thrust his directly into the flame, catching it on fire, and letting it burn for what he considered the correct amount of time, before blowing it out and slapping it onto the pre-assembled cracker and chocolate.

Harvey was more of the Jeff School type toaster, but he always looked for a hotly glowing coal, because the heat was most intense, and less likely to set his marshmallow on fire.  Jessica sat on a log with a glass of wine and waited for Jeff to pass her a ready-to-eat s’more.  Rachel ate a handful of marshmallows straight out of the bag, and refused any and all s’mores pressed upon her. 

“Hey, Mike,” said Jeff, once they had all eaten their fill, “did you bring your guitar this year?”

Rachel snorted inelegantly. “I made him leave it at home.”

“I packed it,” said Mike, “and she unpacked it.” He licked sticky, melted marshmallow residue from his thumb. “Any campfire singing will have to be a capella.”

Harvey wasn’t a fan of these singing sessions. He’d left _Michael Row the Boat Ashore_ far in his past, and felt no need to resurrect it. It annoyed him, though, to hear of Rachel’s prohibition. If Mike wanted to indulge in his hobby, and if the others were up for some harmless, free entertainment, what gave Rachel the right to deny them all?

“Too bad this place doesn’t come with a karaoke machine,” mused Jessica, causing all four of the others to stare at her with varying degrees of horror.

“Honey,” whispered Jeff, “we agreed never to speak of that in mixed company.”

“Speak of what?” asked Mike.

“She thinks she’s Chicago’s answer to Beyonce.”

Jessica rolled her eyes. “If you’re going to slander me, at least get it right. Not Beyonce. Try Whitney.”

There followed a brief back and forth between them, regarding the relative merits of both singers. Harvey tuned them out, staring into the dying flames, and already missing Jessica, even though they had nearly a week left at the lodge.

He wasn’t a big fan of karaoke, which probably had something to do with his father being a live musician, but he wouldn’t have minded seeing Jessica singing up on a stage — or in the lodge’s great room, or even out here, under the stars. He knew that whatever she chose to tackle, she’d be magnificent at it.

He hoped that Jeff would step aside and allow Jessica to run for that alderman position, or if not, that she would win the coin toss. Maybe someday, years from now, she’d be on the ballot for president. If she was, he wouldn’t hesitate to vote for her.

“What are you thinking, Harvey?” Mike had moved to sit next to him.

Harvey gave him a forced smile. “Not much. Just … I’m going to miss this.”

“There’s always next year.”

“For you, maybe. This is a couples’ vacation. This time next year, I’ll no longer be part of a couple.”

“You don’t know that. You’re still a catch. And no one says you have to marry the next person that comes along. Pick your fling of the week and ask her along.” He paused, staring into the fire. “Or him.”

Harvey tried to picture that, and failed. He no longer had a taste for flings. The only person he wanted was sitting next to him, and he was off-limits. He nodded, though, as if Mike had solved everything for him.

“Hey,” said Mike after a few minutes, “how’s your ankle?”

“Sore, but I can put a little weight on it. The ice helped. Thank you. I’m sorry you missed the hike.”

“I’m not.”

“Mike …” They’d avoided the subject of The Kiss all day. Harvey hesitated, debating the wisdom of brining it up. Finally, he murmured, quietly enough that only Mike could hear him, “About last night.”

Mike gave his head a tight shake. “I’m sorry. I made a mistake.” He darted a looked at Harvey, and repeated, “I’m sorry.”

There didn’t seem anything more to say on the subject, so Harvey dropped it.

 

******

 

There was no repeat of late night movies with Mike. He went upstairs with Rachel. Harvey stayed downstairs and spent a second night on the couch, using his sore ankle as an excuse for not climbing the stairs. He laid off the scotch, though, and when Jeff and Jessica rose for their morning run, Harvey was already seated on the porch with a cup of coffee, feet propped on the railing, watching a small family of deer that had materialized out of the early morning mist and tip-toed down to the lake for a drink. As the two joggers headed for the path that would take them around the lake, the deer scattered. Harvey watched their white tails disappear into the trees.

He stayed outside, enjoying the cool morning and the solitude, until he heard voices inside the lodge. He rose and limped inside, finding Donna and Rachel in the kitchen, working together on a batch of waffle batter. Ignoring the identical hostile looks they shot him, he limped into the kitchen to freshen his coffee.

“That couch must be comfortable,” commented Donna.

“Yes, it is. Thanks for asking.” He favored her with a bland smile.

“How are things at the firm?” asked Rachel. She was her usual flawless self, wearing artfully ripped skinny jeans and a light blue, button down shirt. Her hair was caught up in a messy bun, which he didn’t doubt she’d fussed over to get just right.

“The firm is good. We had another successful year. In fact, we’re looking to expand onto another floor.” She looked almost disappointed by his answer. Never one to pass up an opportunity to be petty, he countered, “And how is your dad? I hear he finally made you senior partner.”

“Not senior. Just partner.”

“Oh? That’s a shame. Whatever happened to good old nepotism?”

“Harvey!” He ducked as Donna threw a potholder at his head. “Rachel is a damn good lawyer. She deserved that promotion, and you know it.”

“Damn right, she did. Who said she didn’t?” This, from Louis, who had appeared in the kitchen, joined at the hip with Sheila, as always. “I’ll fight them. Was it you, Harvey? Of course it was you. Just because your marriage is falling apart, doesn’t mean you have to make everyone around you miserable.”

“Who says—”

“Oh, give it up,” snapped Donna. “Everyone knows. I thought we agreed to keep it quiet this week, but you had to go spill the beans.”

“Me? I didn’t tell anyone.”

Rachel laughed spitefully. “You told Mike, and he told me.”

And wasn’t that just typical? Mike might be loyal to Harvey, but evidently Rachel would always supersede him. “Well. Good. Great. Now I don’t need to keep pretending that Donna and I are still on speaking terms.”

Everyone but Harvey laughed at that. He growled, and pondered the consequences of hijacking the van and leaving them all stranded here for the rest of the week.

“What are we laughing at?” asked Mike over a yawn. His hair was wet and rumpled, and he was barefoot, in jeans and t-shirt. Nobody answered him. Oblivious, he made straight for the coffeemaker and poured himself a mug. After waiting a minute or two — probably to allow the caffeine to work itself through his system, he straightened up, alert and bright-eyed. “Who’s ready for some serious antiquing today?”

“Some what, now?” asked Harvey, but was drowned out by the other, more enthusiastic responses.

“There are some great stores in the area. I made maps for everyone. What do you ladies have going on over there? Waffles? Excellent. Let’s get them cooking, so we can eat, and get on the road.”

Harvey did not want or need any antiques — furniture, dishes, books, tchotchkes, or otherwise. “What’s wrong with just hanging out here and relaxing? Do we have to be on the go every second of the day?”

“What else are you going to do? Sit here and watch the squirrels mate?”

“Maybe.” Clutching his coffee mug, he limped to the dining table, with Mike trailing along behind him.

“Come on, Harvey. Don’t be that guy.” He lowered his voice, so only Harvey could hear him.  “Weren’t you saying, just last night, how much you were going to miss this?”

That was true enough. It was only Donna — and to a lesser extent, Rachel — with whom he preferred not to spend the day. Maybe that was his fault. He had been a bit of a dick to Rachel, not for anything she’d said or done, but simply because she’d married Mike. The grudge he’d carried all these years was becoming beyond absurd. He stiffened his jaw. Time to man up, and mend fences, if it wasn’t too late.

“You’re right,” he told Mike. “I’m sorry. I’m out of sorts, but I promise I’ll pull myself together. I’m sure whatever you’ve planned for us will be great.”

Mike broke into that sweet grin that never failed to make Harvey’s knees go weak. “Thanks. I promise, you won’t regret it.”

 

******

 

Despite his still aching ankle, Harvey claimed his customary spot behind the wheel of the van. His right foot still worked fine, after all. Driving gave him at least the illusion of control over the situation. As it was, the hour-long drive was excruciating. The loud chatter that echoed around the interior had his head throbbing with the beginnings of a vicious headache. 

Worse, the Pearson-Malones and the Sasz-Litts seemed to be in some sort of competition to see who could be the most sickly sweet with one another. Before this week, Harvey might have confidently stated that Louis and Sheila would win any schmoop-off, but Jessica and Jeff were strong contenders. He suspected that was due to their competing interest in the political seat back in Chicago. Maybe they were hoarding relationship points for the coming days, when at least one of them was bound to be disappointed with their role in the marriage.

Or maybe Harvey was being hyper-cynical. What did he know about happy marriages, anyway? The primary example he’d had growing up had been revealed to be the worst sort of sham. He’d tried with Donna. Hadn’t he? No matter how close he’d felt to her at times, no matter the fun they’d had together, or the sense of true partnership that he convinced himself existed between them — in spite of all that, he could never forget that he’d entered into that partnership based upon a complete fraud. Donna could never have his full heart, because it would always belong to someone else.

 

The Vermont hamlet which was their destination was evidently the local ground zero for antique malls, rustic country stores, ice cream parlors, and maple syrup stands. It also boasted one passable tavern, serving both food and alcohol, as well as a small medical clinic, which is where Mike dragged Harvey as soon as they arrived in town.

He’d made an appointment for him, the little sneak, and while the rest of their group fanned out through the hamlet to shop, Mike stayed behind with Harvey, who was prodded, x-rayed, and eventually sent on his way with an ace bandage, a pair of crutches, and orders to stay off his feet as much as possible for the next few days.

Rejoining the group, they found Rachel haggling over the value of a fussy antique vanity. While she aggressively lawyered her way into purchasing this overpriced piece of junk, Louis and Sheila scoured the book collections for first editions, and Jeff and Jessica strolled around the hamlet licking gigantic ice cream cones.

Leaving Mike, who apparently intended to Instagram everything in sight, Harvey crutched his way to the tavern. Surprisingly, Donna followed along with him, and took a seat next to him at the bar.

“Shouldn’t you be out there picking out furnishings for your new home?”

She sighed. “Harvey, about that.”

He experienced a tiny jolt of alarm. “I’m keeping the condo. Don’t even try—”

“I’m not. I don’t want it.” She glanced up and gave the bartender a tight smile when he ambled over to take their order. “Vodka martini. Dry. Don’t skimp on the olives. And be a lamb, and use whatever passes for top shelf vodka around here.”

Harvey ordered a scotch, and asked for lunch menus. When they were alone again, he studied her while she bit her lip and fiddled with her coaster. “Spit it out,” he said.

“Excuse me?”

“Talk to me, Donna. There’s obviously something on your mind.”

Another deep sigh. “I don’t know. I’m just not sure … Do you think we’re being too hasty with this divorce business?”

He pretended to give that some thought, although he already knew what his answer would be. “No. I don’t. Neither of us have been happy together for a long while.”

Donna let out an indelicate snort. “Happy? Who the fuck is happy these days? Who even knows what that is anymore?”

“Jessica? Louis?”

She gave him a piercing look and countered, “Mike and Rachel?”

Their drinks arrived, and he took a grateful swallow of scotch. “Sure. Them too.”

“Let me ask you something. Why is it that the only time we see those two together is on these yearly trips? I mean, we live in the same city. We could have them over every week if we wanted to.”

Her questions were making him edgy. She was after something, but he couldn’t figure out what. “I don’t know,” he said, more testily than he’d intended. “We’re all busy people. Maybe that has something to do with it.”

“Maybe.” She popped an olive in her mouth, and chewed thoughtfully. “Why did we get married?”

Harvey choked on his drink, and coughed for several seconds before he could speak. “What?”

“I mean, did you ever love me?”

He gaped at her. “Of course I did. I still do, in a sense, in between wanting to, you know, shove you off the balcony. But not like that. Not in the way I need to, to stay married to you.”

“To be clear, you never loved me in that way?”

He bit back a frustrated growl. Did they have to do this now? “Honestly? No, I don’t believe so. I tried to convince myself I did, but it was a lie.”

“Is there someone else?”

He hesitated for a half a second. “No.”

“You’re a shitty liar.” She gulped down half her drink, wincing. “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll give you your divorce, uncontested, if you’ll just for once be honest with me. There is someone else, isn’t there?”

He studied her face. He wanted to tell her the truth, he realized with some surprise. He wanted to confide in her, like he used to do before they became something more than employer and employee.  In some ways, they’d been closer then, than they had as husband and wife. “Fine.” He tossed back the rest of his drink, and signaled the bartender for another round. “You want honesty? I’ll give it to you, but you have to promise me this stays between us.”

Her expression grew serious, and something warm and understanding flickered in her eyes, reminding him of the Donna he used to know. “I promise.”

It wasn’t easy to say it out loud. It had been hard enough to admit it to himself. He waited for fresh drinks to arrive, requiring another shot of liquid courage. “I’m in love with somebody else,” he muttered, unable to meet her eyes.

“Does he love you back?”

His head jerked up. She’d said “he.” When his hammering heart had slowed, he found his voice again. “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. He’s married.”

She laid a hand on his wrist and gave it a squeeze. “Of course he loves you. That boy adored you from the first moment you met.”

“How can you … I never said—”

“I know how much you hate to hear me say this, but I’m Donna.”

A small noise escaped his throat. It could have been a bitten off laugh, or a stifled burst of grief. He pressed his lips together and struggled for control. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, and she surprised him again by pulling him in for a brief hug.

“I’ll let you in on a little secret,” she said after a time. “Rachel plans to ask Mike for a divorce. I guess great minds think alike, because she’s waiting until after this week is over.”

“Shit.” It wasn’t exactly earth-shattering news, considering how Mike and Rachel had been treating one another. Still, it was going to hit Mike hard. “This is going to kill him.”

Donna shrugged. “He’ll survive, just like we all will. Look on the bright side. You’ll finally get your chance with him.”

“Don’t make me out to be some kind of vulture, waiting to swoop in.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “What about you? Do you have someone waiting in the wings?”

She smiled over the top of her drink. “Possibly.”

He let out a cynical huff of laughter. “Of course you do. But what was all that about not being sure we’re doing the right thing?”

Her mouth stretched into a slightly wicked smile. “I like being married to you, for reasons that have nothing to do with love and eternal devotion. You’re fun, and exciting to be around. That is, when you’re not wallowing in self-pity, which let’s face it, you’ve been doing a lot of lately.”

“What if I’d agreed that we should stay married?”

“I was going to suggest an open marriage. We could have been one of those uber-sophisticated power couples who break all the rules, and spit in the eye of convention.”

“Ugh. Really? That sounds—”

“There you are.” Mike burst into the bar, and turned to yell out the open door. “Found them! They’re in here, getting drunk.”

Donna leaned in to whisper in Harvey’s ear, “That sounds, what? Finish your thought.”

“It doesn’t sound like me at all. Pass.”

She gave a fatalistic shrug. “Too bad.”

Harvey nodded at Mike, who was busy corralling the rest of their group. “Before they get here, tell me, is it anyone I know? Your ‘possible’ person?”

“I’m surprised you haven’t figured it out already. You losing your touch, Specter?”

He kept quiet.

“I’ll give you a clue. It starts with a ‘B’, and rhymes with ‘Enjamin’.”

“Oh. My. God.” He shook his head. “That poor bastard. You’re going to eat him alive. I should call him and warn him.”

“Call who, and warn who?” asked Mike, sliding onto the stool next to Harvey.

“I’ll tell you later.” Maybe he would, someday. Not today, and not anytime soon. He liked Benjamin, but the thought of telling people that his wife had left for him, sounded too pathetic to speak aloud.

“Let’s grab a table over there,” said Louis, and the rest of the group followed him to the round table in the middle of the room.”

Harvey carried both his drink and Donna’s over to the table, and the eight of them arranged themselves around it. The bartender hustled over to take their drink orders, but Sheila held up her hand, interrupting them.

“Hold on a minute, everyone,” she said. “We need a designated driver. Harvey and Donna are disqualified, for obvious reasons. Harvey, hand over your keys.”

She had a point, so he reached into his pocket and tossed the car keys in the middle of the table. No one moved for several seconds, and then Jeff sighed, and reached for the keys. Before his could close his hand around them, Mike’s darted forward and snatched them up.

“Mine,” he declared. “Harvey’s keys are mine.” He clutched them to his heart, and stared across the table at Harvey, eyes wide and sparkling. Anyone else might have interpreted the look as mischief, but Harvey clearly read challenge, and a trace of trepidation.

“Okay, then,” said Sheila.

The others, excluding Donna and Rachel, laughed at the byplay, and the bartender was allowed to take their orders. Harvey, much to everyone’s surprise, asked for coffee.

 

 

******

 

It was late afternoon by the time they rolled back up to the lodge. Tonight’s dinner would be grilled steaks and chicken. The lodge came equipped with a fancy gas grill located on the side of the porch facing the lake. Harvey and Jeff headed there to fire it up, while the rest of the group carried out marinated meat, vegetables, plates, and cutlery to place on the two picnic tables down on the lawn. Good-natured teasing was directed at the two rival grill masters, along with “helpful” advice, and admonitions not to blow the place up. They managed to get the grill going to their satisfaction, and the meat was arranged on top.

“I got this, Harvey,” said Jeff, appropriating the tongs for himself.

“You sure? We can’t exactly call out for pizza if you incinerate our dinner.”

“Please. Grilling is my jam. Just give me room to work, man. Go give that bum ankle a rest.”

Harvey help up his hands, signaling his surrender, and backed off to go join the others on the lawn. Louis handed him a glass of red liquid, with slices of orange floating in it.

“Sheila made a batch of her famous sangria. You’re going to love this.”

Harvey doubted that, but accepted the glass, took a sip of the too-sweet concoction, and favored Louis with a phony smile and a thumbs up.

The lawn sloped gently down to the lake, and a weathered wooden dock. Mike had wandered down to the water, clutching a glass of sangria, which he appeared to be enjoying. Leaving his crutches behind, Harvey limped over to join him, and Mike motioned with his glass to their left, where two canoes and a row boat sat upside down on the shore.

“That’s what we’re doing tomorrow,” Mike said.

Harvey considered the sizes and capacity of the three craft, and shook his head. “We won’t all fit.”

“Sure we will.”

Harvey didn’t argue the point. He’d already decided that he would decline to go an any boat trips around the lake. Although his ankle shouldn’t prove a hindrance to sitting in a boat and working a paddle, it nevertheless made for a convenient excuse, one that he’d keep in reserve for tomorrow.

Mike walked out onto the dock, and Harvey followed. Around the perimeter of the lake, they could see a scatter of cabins and vacation homes, some set back and obscured by trees, some hugging the edge of the water. The sounds of screams and excited laughter drifted to them from the far shore, but aside from that, and the murmur of their friends’ voices behind them, the only other sounds were chattering birds and the gentle lap of water against the dock.

Harvey sucked in a deep breath, and let it out slowly. For the first time since they had arrived, he felt everything inside him which had been so tightly wound for so long, begin to relax. “This place was a great choice, Mike. Good job.”

Mike nodded, eyed Harvey out of the corner of his eye, and then returned his attention to the lake, slurping sangria. “I like it here too. It’s like I can breathe for the first time in years. And my head is clear. Clearer, anyway.”

Mike plopped down on the dock, bare feet dangling over the side. Harvey lowered himself more cautiously, sitting with one knee bent, and his left leg straight in front of him. He could see the bottom of the ace bandage peeking out from under the leg of his jean, reminding him of Mike’s thoughtfulness this morning, and his own less than gracious behavior.

Maybe Mike’s thoughts were moving along the same lines. “How’s your ankle feeling?” he asked.

“Better. And if I was too much of an ass to say it this morning, thank you.”

“No biggie.”

The long silence that followed was a comfortable one. That was the thing with Mike: they could talk, and joke, and laugh for hours, but they’d never needed to fill in the quiet moments with pointless chatter. While Mike watched the lake, Harvey watched Mike, focusing on the side of his face, and the neck tendon that stood out, making him yearn to scoot closer and use his tongue to trace that tendon along the column of his neck.

Mike turned his head, and caught Harvey staring. He raised one eyebrow, and looked past him, towards the lodge. “Looks like dinner might be ready.”

Harvey had wanted to ask Mike about his grab for the car keys, and the look they’d shared, but their names were being called, and the opportunity had passed.

Mike rose, and held out his hand to help Harvey to his feet.  As their hands met, and clasped, the air around them seemed to grow viscous, sticky, and sweet, as if they were swimming in syrup, and stuck together in the best way.

Then Mike let go, and clapped Harvey on the shoulder. “I’d challenge you to a race, but you’re at a disadvantage right now.” He put a hand on Harvey’s elbow, but he shook him off.

“I can walk,” he snapped, and instantly regretted his tone. Mike’s expression, which had been open and as happy as he ever looked, had gone closed and shuttered. As Mike stalked away from him, back and neck stiff, Harvey whispered to his retreating figure. “Sorry. _Shit_. I’m sorry.”

 

******

 

After dinner, they gathered around the campfire again. During their trip to town, Louis and Sheila had bought matching recorders (”His and hers,” Harvey commented sourly to Jessica), and they softly tweetled away in a manner which turned out to be reasonably soothing, and not the screech-fest Harvey had dreaded. They all agreed that tomorrow night, they’d roast weenies over the fire. (Harvey waited for the obvious jokes to be made, but apparently his friends were actual mature adults. He did spot a fleeting smirk on Mike’s face, there and gone in an instant.)

The fire died down to coals, which slowly turned to ash and went cold. As Harvey poked at the ash with a stick, his mind moved aimlessly, struggling to construct a metaphor for relationships that burned too hot, and too fast, and ended up insubstantial, like dust, which would disappear all too soon, leaving little trace of its existence.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and looked up to find Donna standing over him. “Are you coming to bed tonight?” she asked softly. “It’s okay. I won’t bite.”

“I know.” He sighed, and tossed the stick away. “The couch is fine.”

Her expression perhaps grew more melancholy, but it was difficult to tell in the dark.

Donna returned to the lodge, with Rachel following close behind. After that, the two remaining couples said their good-nights, leaving Harvey alone with Mike, who appeared lost in thought. He finally stirred, and looked around the circle, seeming surprised to find them alone.

“We, uh,” said Mike, “we should make sure the fire is completely out.”

“It is.” Harvey frowned at his own words. If the fire was a metaphor for marriage, or relationships, that was a shitty note to end on.

“There’s a little more sangria left.”

Harvey wrinkled his nose. “I’d rather drink melted jello shots.” He thought longingly of his bottles of scotch sitting on the kitchen counter. “Maybe we should go inside.”

“Go ahead. I’m going to sit here and watch the stars for a while.”

Harvey didn’t move. He wished he could see Mike’s face clearly. He wished they were seated closer together, and not on opposite sides of the fire pit.

“I think it’s over,” murmured Mike after a time.

“What’s that?”

“My marriage. Me and Rachel. I tried. I mean, I think I tried. I’m sitting here struggling to imagine what more I could have done, or how much harder I might have worked at it. And maybe I could have — tried harder, that is. It just seems like after a certain point, it shouldn’t be so fucking hard. You know?”

Harvey did know. The pain and yearning in Mike’s anguished voice touched a raw spot inside him. He got up to move closer. Halfway around the circle, he tripped over someone’s empty glass, which they’d left on the ground, lost his balance, and pitched forward. He might have ended up executing a classic face plant, but Mike leaped toward him, and caught him in his arms. Harvey’s forward momentum pushed him back, and he sat down hard in the space he had just vacated, with Harvey half in his lap.

Both of them froze for perhaps a beat too long. Time started up again, and Harvey jerked back, and up, teetering in front of Mike on his good foot.

He found himself apologizing to Mike for … what was it? The third time tonight? “I never used to be such a klutz. I should come with warning lights.”

Another beat of silence. “That’s what she said.”

This surprised a chuckle out of Harvey. “Terrible. Flag on the play.” He hopped closer, and sat next to Mike, close enough that their shoulders touched. “Seriously, though, I’m sorry about Rachel.” He didn’t mention what Donna had told him earlier in the day. He might have, if Mike hadn’t already figured it out for himself. Anything else he wanted to ask Mike concerning a possible future would have to wait. He’d meant it when he insisted to Donna that he wasn’t a vulture, lying in wait to pick the bones of Mike’s marriage clean.

Still, he couldn’t get the image out of his head, of Mike grabbing up the car keys, as if …

No. Let it be, he told himself.

“Let’s go inside.”

“But the fire,” said Mike.

“Is not a fire anymore, so much as a benign pile of ash. Plus, it’s in a pit, so it’s perfectly safe.” As something occurred to him, he peered at Mike’s face. “Weren’t you ever a boy scout?”

“No.”

No explanation, just that one forlorn syllable. Harvey was forcibly reminded of Mike’s shitty childhood.

“Well, trust me,” he said, “this fire is as dead as a fire can be. I don’t know about you, but I could use another drink. A _real_ drink.” He heaved himself to his feet, waited for Mike to do the same, and then limped toward the back door, with Mike right beside him.

 

******

 

 

“Maybe I’ll take the other couch tonight,” said Mike over a yawn.

They’d been playing gin rummy, and drinking steadily for the last two hours, while Harvey’s favorites played softly through the speakers, creating an air of intimacy, as if they were the only people in the lodge, or an invisible cone of silence sealed them in.

For form’s sake, more than anything else, Harvey replied, “You sure that’s a good idea?”

“Look who’s talking.”

Harvey grunted. “Point.” He tossed Mike one of the crocheted throws, and spread another over himself as he stretched out on the couch. As an afterthought, he unfastened his jeans and shimmied out of them before draping them over the back of the couch.

A floor creaked somewhere above them. Harvey braced himself for another muffled Louis and Sheila marathon session, but no further sounds followed. He relaxed, rolling onto his side and leaning his head on one hand.

He’d been turning an idea over in his mind ever since he received confirmation from Mike that he would soon be single again, but hadn’t yet found the right moment to bring it up. Now, with the room in near darkness, and the soft, jazzy music weaving its protective net around them, the words came more easily.

“Have you given any thought,” he asked, “as to how you’re going to support yourself when Rachel leaves?”

In the faint light from the microwave clock in the kitchen, he saw Mike’s chest expand, and deflate.

“Maybe I’ll ask for alimony in the settlement.”

Harvey almost laughed at that, but thought better of it. “Sure. That’s an option.”

“Or I could reboot one of my many criminal enterprises.”

“Did prison teach you nothing?”

“To not get caught.”

Harvey had several sarcastic responses to that, but did not share them. “Are you keeping the apartment, or letting Rachel have it?”

“It’s still mine, except for that whole marital community thing. I suppose if she wants it, she could buy me out. That might keep me in Hot Pockets for a couple of months. Or …” Instead of completing the thought, Mike let out a hissing sigh.

“Come work for me.”

Surprisingly, this time Mike did not reject the idea outright. “I appreciate the offer, but let me give you the reasons why it probably wouldn’t work. Number one, I’ve committed to running the clinic. Even if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t want to come back to the firm as an associate, and I’m not even remotely in a financial position to afford any sort of partner buy-in.”

“Only two reasons? You’re making this too easy. Allow me to demolish your objections. Number one, divide your time, fifty-fifty, between the clinic and the firm. Or sixty-forty. Whatever works best for you.”

“And the buy-in?”

“Come on board as Of Counsel. Pick your own cases. Set your own hours.”

“Until my cases conflict with yours, and my hours aren’t sufficient to get the job done.”

“Your negativity notwithstanding, we could make this work.”

Mike yawned again. “I admit, you’re wearing me down. Let me think about it, okay? I’ll see if I can shift some of my responsibilities at the clinic, and if that’s possible … maybe. We’ll see.”

Since this was the most positive response he’d gotten from Mike on his many job offers, he’d take it as a win for now.

They were both quiet for a while. Harvey picked up his phone and turned off the music. Upstairs, a toilet flushed.

“Harvey, did you ever want to have kids?”

The question caught him off guard. Maybe, if he’d met someone in his twenties or thirties. Now? He was pushing fifty, and the idea held no appeal. Donna certainly possessed no maternal yearnings. She’d made that abundantly clear over the years. “No,” he said, and left it at that. “What about you?”

“I used to think I did. I thought Rachel and I would get around to it eventually. I always figured I’d be the stay at home parent, while she moved ahead with her career.” He gave a humorless laugh. “Thank God we never got around to it.”

“Her parents never pressured her for grandkids?”

“Just her mom, and not all that often, or strenuously. I think both she and Robert want grandchildren, just not from the defective Ross bloodline.”

“You’re not defective.” It made him angry to think of anybody causing Mike to feel that way about himself.

“And now,” continued Mike, “here I am. The last of my line.”

“So? What of it? It’s what you do during your life that counts.”

“Is it?”

“Everything ends, Mike. What’s that line? ‘Things fall apart; The center cannot hold.’”

“’Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world.’ Yeats. Appropriate for these times we live in, although, he had a particular religious spin on things, didn’t he?”

They were getting into areas they had never discussed before. Harvey wanted to keep it going, to hear Mike’s voice next to him in the dark, so he asked, “You were raised Catholic, weren’t you?”

“I was. These days, I’m lapsed as fuck.”

“Seems to me a sensible way to be.”

“Does it? Makes it harder to assign meaning to all the chaos. Makes the long nights darker and colder.” Mike’s laugh ghosted over to Harvey, thin and sad. “Sorry. Scotch, divorce, and Yeats don’t mix, apparently.”

Hearing Mike so low plucked an answering chord of pity inside Harvey. “Try to look on the bright side. We’re both free agents again. Two eligible single men, unleashed upon Manhattan? Sounds pretty epic to me.”

“Ugh. How does one even date anymore?”

“I hear there are websites. And apps.”

“Double ugh. All I want is that perfect, frozen moment, like the first time I met Rachel.”

“Or,” countered Harvey, “the first time I met you.”

_Oh, shit._ Had he really just said that?

Complete silence met his confession. Was Mike even breathing? Could Harvey blame the scotch tomorrow?

He attempted to cover his embarrassment with small talk. “So, uh, anyway. Guess we should get some shuteye. Knowing you, you’ve got a full itinerary planned for us tomorr — _oof._ ”

His breath was driven from his lungs as Mike landed on top of him, lying full-length, legs tangling with Harvey’s.

Harvey opened his mouth to say something, but Mike’s mouth crashed against his, and his tongue muscled inside, blocking Harvey’s words, and demolishing his thoughts. It took a few seconds for shock to subside, and then he was kissing Mike back, and clutching his shoulders with something like desperation. In the dark, it felt as if Mike was the only real, solid thing left in the world.

They kissed, and rubbed off on one another, as if the horny teenager inside each of them had been resurrected for this moment. Harvey felt Mike reach between them and close his hand around Harvey’s stiffening cock, through the thin cotton of his underwear.

“Uh, God,” he muttered, pressing his forehead to Mike’s arm, just holding on while Mike stroked him roughly. “Wait. Let me,” he gasped, reaching for Mike, and encountering the rough denim of his jeans. With trembling hands, he unbuttoned, and unzipped him, and then rolled them, so they were both on their sides, facing one another.

For a few precarious seconds, he worried that the couch would not be wide enough to hold them, but they adjusted, each wedging an arm between them and stroking the other off furiously, as they kissed, sharing breath back and forth, devouring each other’s desperate moans, so the telltale sounds wouldn’t escape and float up to the second floor.

As his orgasm neared, Harvey broke the kiss and tucked his face against Mike’s shoulder, mouthing the cloth of his t-shirt, and holding it between his teeth while he shook, and shuddered and creamed over Mike’s hand, the couch, and his underwear. Mike gave one hoarse shout in his ear, immediately bitten off, and followed Harvey to completion. The clung to one another, breathing hard, pounding hearts gradually slowing, neither moving for long minutes.

Upstairs, one of the toilets flushed again, and the ceiling above them creaked. Harvey’s head came up, and reality came crashing back in.

“Shit,” he whispered, struggling to disentangle them.

Mike wouldn’t let go. His low groan against Harvey’s ear turned into a laugh. “Shit is right. I guess we’ve gone and done it now.”

“We’ve gone and made a mess, is what we’ve done.”

“Hang on,” Mike ordered. “Don’t move.” He stood up, went into the first-floor bathroom, and returned with two damp hand towels.

“Oh, great idea,” griped Harvey softly. “You think nobody’s going to notice the jizz all over the guest towels?”

Mike laughed again, more loudly. “We can blame it on Louis and Sheila. It’s either this, or tissues.”

Harvey took one of the towels, and cleaned himself up, while Mike did the same. When Harvey was done, he handed his towel back to Mike, who held if between thumb and forefinger.

“We could go outside and bury them in the woods,” Mike suggested.

Harvey was reasonably sure he was kidding. A bubble of hysterical laughter collided with his rising panic over what they had just done. He told himself that it was fine, they hadn’t cheated, not really. He’d longed to be with Mike for so many years, although all the ways he’d imagined his first time with Mike, had looked nothing like the frantic, messy joining that had just taken place. Still, he couldn’t find it in himself to be sorry for any of it.

“Harvey?”

Harvey glanced up, belatedly realizing that Mike had been watching him closely, still holding the hand towels. “Just throw them in the hamper. No one’s going to notice.”

Mike disappeared into the bathroom again, and returned empty-handed.

Harvey’s face must have showed some of the ambivalence he was feeling, because Mike halted, peering at him in the dark room. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“But …”

“But this can’t happen again.”

Mike’s face fell. “Oh. I thought—”

“Not until we get back home.”

A relieved smile split Mike’s face. “Thank God. I thought you were about to have some kind of existential freak-out.”

That was still a real possibility. “I’ll do my best not to. There are other people to consider, though. We don’t need to blow up this whole trip with our stuff. So … we wait.”

Mike didn’t appear thrilled, but after a moment, he gave a reluctant nod. “Guess I’ll have to do my best to keep my hands off you for the next few days. It won’t be easy, after … _that_.”

Harvey tugged on Mike’s arm, pulling him down, so that they were sitting next to one another. Holding his chin, he gave him a close-mouthed kiss. “No, but it gets easier with practice. After all, I’ve managed it all these years, waiting for you.”

“You have?”

“Don’t sound so surprised. I’ve wanted this for a long time.” He rested his forehead against Mike’s. “You have no idea.”

“But why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“When? In the beginning, you were getting your bearings at the firm. I didn’t know from one day to the next whether you were even going to stay. And then you confessed that you were head over heels for Rachel. She seemed to make you happy. That’s what you wanted, and I wanted you to be happy. Especially after …”

“Right. After prison.” Mike hold onto Harvey’s knee with one hand. “I was attracted to you too, you know. From the beginning. I didn’t think you swung this way, though. Between Scottie, and Zoe, and …” He laughed. “Do you know, for I while I suspected you and Jessica of having a little something-something on the side.”

“As if. She couldn’t handle all of this.”

“Anyway. You always struck me as the ultimate ladies’ man. Like James Bond in a three-piece suit.”

“Which Bond? Connery? Moore? Craig?”

“Lazenby.”

“How dare you.”

They laughed easily. Mike patted Harvey’s knee and stood, moving back to the other sofa. They both settled back underneath their respective blankets, each lost in their own thoughts. Harvey had just started to doze off, when Mike’s voice drifted across the space between them.

“Just so you know,” he said, “I did the math, and at average paddling speed, it should take approximately five hours to make it all the way around the lake and back here.”

“Huh. Well, I hope you all have a good time, because I don’t think—”

“And that’s not even taking into account going ashore for lunch, or to explore.”

“Sounds like a full day.”

“Exactly.”

“Exactly?” If Mike was trying to make a point, it was eluding Harvey so far.

“So, here’s what I think. You’ve got your ankle to use as an excuse to stay behind.”

“That was the plan. Sorry.”

“Don’t be. All I need to do is come up with something of my own: back problems, upset stomach, or maybe just the classic hangover.”

Even after all these years, sometimes Mike’s thought processes perplexed him, but those times when Mike outpaced him, Harvey was never too far behind. “Wait. Are you suggesting—”

“Yep. We’ll have five hours, minimum. Together. Alone.”

“Oh.” Harvey performed a mental fist bump, but strove to keep the rising excitement out of his voice. “I thought the plan was to keep our hands off each other.”

“Yeah, no. I hated that plan.”

“Honestly? I kind of did, too.”


	3. Chapter 3

They nearly hit a snag the next morning, when Donna’s phone rang just as she was almost out the door. Harvey was ready to rip the phone from her hands and lob it into the lake, but luckily Rachel stepped in instead. She gently extricated the phone from Donna’s fingers, and informed the caller that Donna would be unavailable until after dinner.

With that mini-crisis averted, everyone but Mike and Harvey carried their backpacks down to the lake and loaded up the canoes and rowboat. Harvey watched from the window, holding his breath until all three vessels were launched, and six oars hit the water.

Mike was still upstairs, working on his Oscar-worthy portrayal of Man With Hangover. When the boats had moved far enough out into the lake that Harvey could no longer make out the features of their occupants, he turned away from the window and climbed the stairs, forcing himself to go slowly, and not sprint.

Mike waited for him on his and Rachel’s bed, where he was stretched out with his hands behind his head, the picture of ease. “Hi,” he said when Harvey entered the room.

“Hi.” He stood with his hands in his pockets, feeling unexpectedly awkward. After all these years, were they actually going to do this? “They’re gone,” he said unnecessarily. Mike had to have heard the commotion the six friends made as they prepared for departure. He walked to Mike’s window and looked out, locating the three boats, far out on the lake. “You have a good view from here. Better than our room.”

He heard Mike shift on the bed behind him, and then soft footsteps as he walked the short distance to join Harvey at the window. He wrapped his arms around Harvey’s middle, and rested his chin on his shoulder.

“You still in?” Mike whispered in Harvey’s ear.

Was he? He could have listed a hundred reasons why this was a bad idea, not least of which was that technically, they were both still married. He’d agreed to it, though, and _god_ , he wanted it. Turning in Mike’s arms, he examined his face, and found no ambivalence there. Moving together as if the idea had occurred to them at the exact same instant, they kissed, and it was so sweet, and so full of yearning and promise, that any doubts Harvey still had vanished.

When they came up for air, Harvey eyed the unmade bed over Mike’s shoulder. “Where?” he asked breathlessly.

“Maybe not here. And not in your room. That’s just … no.”

“That leaves one of the third-floor bedrooms, or the couch.” Harvey grimaced at the thought of using Louis and Sheila’s bed.

“Or the van.”

Harvey gave a surprised laugh. “Weird, but no. I’ll nominate up against a wall, or over the dining table.”

“Al fresco? Next to the fire pit?”

“We could drive into town and get a hotel room.”

Mike groaned. “That will take too long. The whole point of staying behind was so that we wouldn’t have to wait.”

“I know.” Harvey stepped back, and ran a hand through his hair. “There don’t seem to be any good options.”

“Then let’s improvise.” Mike indicated the bed. “We can strip off the sheets, put down some towels—”

“Oh god, more towel abuse.”

“And then after we’re done, we hit the mattress with some Febreze, and remake the bed.” He eyed Harvey expectantly. “Well? Are you in, or are you out?”

“Is that supposed to be your idea of the perfect crime? You don’t think Rachel will notice?”

“She’s no Donna.”

“Still …”

“Harvey, you’re over-thinking this.”

“And you’re being reckless.”

“Then let’s be reckless. Be reckless with me.” He moved in on Harvey and held the back of his neck, leaning in for a scorching kiss.

Shuffling and stumbling, they inched toward the bed. Harvey pushed Mike down and stripped his t-shirt off him. Mike returned the favor, and they kissed again, rolling across the comforter until Mike was on top.

“Take those pants off,” Mike ordered breathlessly.

Harvey didn’t waste any time. He unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. Lifting his hips, he worked together with Mike to drag them down and off, followed by his underwear.

“Now you.”

Mike was still in his pajamas, so it was an easier job to pull off his bottoms, leaving them both naked.

They came together in another long, dirty kiss, stroking and touching one another everywhere they could reach. The feel of Mike’s bare skin, pressed full-length against his, felt like heaven. Harvey could have stayed like this, and made out with him for hours. He reached between Mike’s legs, locating his puckered hole, and pressed the tip of his finger against it, thrusting shallowly and retreating. He thrust again, up to the first knuckle, and felt Mike tense up all over.

“Ah,” said Mike, biting his lip. “Okay, that’s …”

Harvey removed his finger. “What’s wrong?” It took a couple of seconds for it to click. “Have you ever done this before?”

“Not … specifically.” He stared down at Harvey, worried and apologetic. “Sorry. Maybe I should have mentioned it sooner.”

Harvey caressed the side of his face with his knuckles. “Do you want to? There is plenty more in my repertoire that I guarantee you’ll enjoy.”

“No, I want this. I do.”

“I could bottom for you. It would be my utmost pleasure.” As he made the offer, Harvey grew excited imagining the feel of Mike inside him, stretching him and filling him up.

Mike’s pupils dilated, as if he was thinking about the same thing. “Let’s, uh, put a pin in _that_. But maybe not for our first time. I’d have no idea what I was doing. Plus, I’ve always sort of pictured it the other way.”

“You’ve thought about this?”

Mike grinned. “I think the word you’re searching for is ‘fantasized.’ And yes, I have. A lot. I mean, _a lot._ ”

Harvey groaned. “Are you trying to kill me here?” _Calm down,_ he ordered himself. This would be Mike’s first time, and he had to get it right. “Okay. Focusing. First of all, where do you and Rachel keep your lube and condoms?”

“She’s on birth control, and we don’t use lube. It was never necessary.”

Harvey grimaced, and eased himself out from under Mike. “That is way too much information.”

“Why? Did you and Donna—?”

“Why are we talking about our wives, again?”

“Right. Good point.” Mike turned over onto his back and watched Harvey stand up. His gaze traveled up and down Harvey’s body, which did strange things to his insides.

_Focus._

“Anyway,” said Harvey, “we haven’t, uh, been intimate in over a year, so …”

They stared at one another, and in the same instant, their gazes shifted up to the ceiling. Mike’s eyes widened, and Harvey shook his head vehemently.

“I am not,” said Harvey, “setting foot inside Louis and Sheila’s sex den.”

“Fine, I’ll do it. I ain’t scared.”

Mike got up and headed for the door, but Harvey stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Wait. You’re assuming they even brought that stuff.”

“Harvey, think about. She’s an older woman. Lube is probably mandatory for her. Plus, you know there is some kinky shit going on up there. If she hasn’t pegged him at least once since we got here, I’ll … I don’t know what. I’ll eat a bug.”

“First of all, gross — to all of that. Secondly, even if you find a gallon of lube up there, I highly doubt they’re using condoms.”

“We won’t know for sure unless we take a look.”

“We?”

“Me. Whatever.” He planted a quick kiss on Harvey’s lips. “I’m going in. Up.”

“Just remember,” Harvey called after Mike’s retreating back, “you won’t be able to unsee whatever you find up there.”

“The nightmares will be worth it,” Mike yelled back. “I’m counting on it.”

“No pressure,” muttered Harvey.

He stood in the doorway, listening, but all he heard was faint rustling as Mike ransacked the Sazs-Litt bedroom. Harvey’s erection had wilted by the time Mike returned, carrying a bottle of lube and a single condom.

“One? That’s not much of a vote of confidence.” He took a closer look at Mike, who appeared shaken. “Are you okay?”

Mike shook his head. “Someday, when we’re far, far away from this place, I’ll tell you what I saw up there. For now, let’s just move forward. Oh, and for the record, they had a whole box of condoms up there. A value pack. It was half empty already, though, and I figured they might notice if I took more than one.”

“Knowing Louis, he’ll notice even one missing.”

“Harvey, are you planning to argue with me every step of the way? Are we doing this or not? I mean, we’ve seen each other naked. We both want this. Don’t we?”

Harvey stepped closer, and took lube and condom from Mike, tossing them onto the bed. He wrapped his arms around him, pressing his body to Mike’s. His eyes nearly rolled back in his head at the exquisite feel of Mike’s naked flesh against his. Groaning, he tucked his face against Mike’s neck and just held on. He felt Mike’s hands on his back, caressing him. Lifting his face, he kissed Mike.

“I want this,” he murmured in between kisses. “No arguments here.”

He walked Mike backwards to the bed, and laid him down on it, before climbing on top of him, straddling his thighs, and leaning down to kiss him some more. When Mike reached for his cock, Harvey gently moved Mike’s arms back to the bed.

“Let me,” he whispered. “Let me take care of you.”

“Yeah, okay.” Mike’s eyes had gone sleepy and dark, as if he’d been drugged. “Just … keep touching me. Feels good.”

Mike looked amazing, laid out there on the bed like that, and positively edible. Unable to resist a taste, Harvey moved down the bed, so that he could take Mike’s cock into his mouth.

“Oh, God,” shouted Mike, thrusting up, and crumpling the comforter in his fists. He arched his neck, and his back, and whimpered quietly.

Harvey palmed the base of his cock, and let the tip slide from his mouth. “Shh,” he soothed. “Don’t come yet. We’re just getting started.”

Mike nodded jerkily, indicating that he understood. When Harvey took him inside his mouth again, he whispered, “Oh, my God.” His fingertips dug into Harvey’s shoulders, but he kept his hips on the bed this time, and let Harvey have his way with him.

Harvey suckled softly, and then licked Mike from base to tip. His thumb teased the slit, which had begun weeping pre-come. He replaced his thumb with his tongue, flicking delicately, tasting Mike, and making him squirm.

“I’m—” Mike moaned loudly when Harvey swallowed him once more. “I’m only human. I-if you keep doing that, I’ll c-come.”

Harvey pulled off again with a wet smack, and smiled at Mike. “Me too. You’re right. We should move this along.” Logically, he knew they had hours ahead of them, but already felt as if they were racing the clock. He found the lube and condom behind him on the bed. “I assume you know how this goes?”

Mike blushed, and mumbled something nearly unintelligible, but Harvey heard the part about “on-line porn.”

“Okay. I don’t know how realistic what you watched was, but that’s fine. I’ll talk you through it. Bend your legs for me, and plant your feet on the mattress. Wait, let’s shove this pillow under your hips.”

Harvey spent half a minute arranging Mike to his liking. When he was finished, he sat back and admired the view. For so many years, this had been only a fantasy, which he’d been convinced could never become reality. And now here Mike was, knees spread, on display, eager and waiting for Harvey to be inside him.

He squirted lube onto his fingertips, and took a few seconds to warm it up. He placed his other hand on Mike’s tense thigh, and felt him twitch. “Relax,” he murmured. “I told you, I’m going to take care of you.”

He touched his fingers to Mike’s entrance, massaging gently at first. Easing one fingertip inside, he teased Mike’s hole in a fluttering motion, and kissed his inner thigh. Hearing Mike’s slow exhalation, and feeling some of his tension go, he was encouraged to press deeper, to the first knuckle.

“How does that feel?”

“Weird. Good?”

“Have you ever had anything inside your ass before?”

“Um. I have a story, but it involves my wife. You sure you’re ready to hear it?”

“Maybe another time. Right now, that would be a real boner killer. I take it that your answer to my question is that you’re not a complete stranger to ass play?”

“Affirm—a—haaa—” Mike gasped as Harvey pushed his finger all the way inside him. “Affirmative.”

Harvey left his finger where it was, not moving, giving Mike a chance to adjust.  Mike’s fists once more clutched at the comforter, and his eyes were shut tightly. After perhaps a minute, Mike sighed, and moved his ass in a tight circle. Encouraged, Harvey finger-fucked him slowly, loving the way Mike’s channel squeezed him and sucked him in.

“Can you open your eyes for me?”

Mike’s lids opened, and he watched Harvey play with him, and stretch him open. Harvey pressed a second finger into him, paused, and waited for Mike’s nod before continuing. He twisted his fingers, and went further, pressing and holding deep inside of Mike.

And holding.

“I think I’m ready for you,” said Mike finally, in a strained voice.

“You’re ready when I say you are.” He continued with his careful preparations. Three fingers deep, he had Mike squirming and cursing nonstop before he was ready to concede that yes, maybe Mike was ready. He pulled out and wiped his fingers on the comforter. Hard and aching, he rolled a condom onto his cock with fingers that visibly shook. As he lubed his sheathed cock, he caught Mike staring at him, licking his lips.

Harvey let out a hoarse laugh. “Look at you. You’re dying for it, aren’t you?”

“I thought we’d established that. And for the record, you look smoking hot right now.”

“Same.” Harvey dropped a few kisses onto Mike’s neck, and shoulders, and gave his cock a few tugs. “Roll onto your side. I’m going to get behind you.”

They rearranged themselves, and Harvey spent some time admiring this new view of Mike, running fingertips down his back, and cupping his beautiful, muscular butt.

“Harvey.” Breathless and needy. “Please don’t make me wait any longer.”

With gentle touches, Harvey bent Mike’s top leg, lined himself up, and carefully pushed past resistance, pausing when the tip of his cock was lodging in Mike’s tight heat. “Fuck,” he breathed in Mike’s ear, “you feel so good.” Mike’s entire body shivered. Holding Mike’s cock in the circle of his palm, he eased deeper inside him, groaning at the sensation of Mike gripping him so tightly.

Fully inside now, groin pressed to Mike’s butt, he paused once more. “Still okay?” he asked.

“God, yes. This is—”

Harvey moved his hips once, forward and back, and Mike gasped. “This is what, Mike?”

“This — ah — this is amazing. Why haven’t we done this before? Why haven’t we been doing this since the day we met?”

The answer to that was too complicated to bother answering. Harvey mouthed Mike’s shoulder, and set up a slow, steady rhythm, rocking into Mike, and feeling like he could drown in sensation, in the sounds Mike made, in the way his heart was so happy, it felt like it could burst open.

He stroked Mike’s cock in counterpoint to his thrusting. Mike’s neck arched, and the back of his head pushed against Harvey’s shoulder. He kissed Mike’s temple, and inhaled his scent, wanting to savor and remember every detail of their first time together.

“Oh, God,” Mike moaned. “Oh my God, that’s … you are … I’m—” He stiffened, his back arched, and seconds later, yelling incoherently, he came over Harvey’s hand.

Watching him come apart, and feeling his spasming channel around his cock, it took only a couple more frantic thrusts, and Harvey was following Mike over the edge. Harvey had always been loud when he came, and Mike was more than a match for him, volume-wise. Their cries of pleasure echoed around the room, followed by their noisy panting, as they sought to catch their breath.

Which was why, as they lay on top of the comforter, still joined, covered with sweat and cum, they didn’t hear the several sets of footsteps on the stairs. The first indication that they were no longer alone came when Donna’s voice punctured their post-coital fog.

“I knew I heard something up here. Wow. Looks like somebody is sleeping in your bed, Rachel.”

Harvey’s first instinct was to pull out and jump to his feet, but that would just leave him naked in front of his wife and Rachel, with his limp, condom-covered dick flapping in the breeze. And it wouldn’t turn the clock back half an hour, and avoid this scene entirely. Striving for casual, he held more tightly to a struggling Mike, grabbed a corner of the comforter, and draped it across what naked bits it reached.

Looking over his shoulder, he saw that it wasn’t just Donna and Rachel in the doorway. The other two couples crowded behind them, faces frozen in variations of shock, amusement, and fascination. Donna and Rachel were clearly livid.

“You’re back,” said Harvey mildly. The humor of the situation hit him hard, and he ordered himself not to laugh.

Mike wasn’t laughing. He’d also stopped struggling, and had pulled the comforter all the way over his head.

“Yes, Harvey,” Donna replied. “We’re back. That piece of shit rowboat Mike sent us out in sprung a leak. Louis and Sheila had to abandon ship. The damn boat is at the bottom of the lake.”

“Come now, Donna,” said Jessica, “let’s not get bogged down in recriminations. Let’s focus on more important things, like your husband, who if I’m not mistaken, still has his dick lodged inside of his best friend.”

A few guffaws from the peanut gallery.

“Get out,” snapped Harvey.

Nobody moved.

“So help me …” he grated.

Donna spun to face the crowd behind her. “Harvey’s right. Let’s give the lovebirds some privacy. If they’re brave enough to join us downstairs, we can grill them then. With their clothes on.”

“And without their jizz still drying on the bedclothes,” added Jeff.

Harvey closed his eyes, willing them to leave quickly. He recognized Louis’ voice, whispering, “Is that our lube?”

The bedroom door closed, and footsteps pounded down the stairs. Harvey let out the breath he had been holding, and felt Mike do the same. He pulled out of Mike, causing them both to shiver, and then disposed of the condom in the wastebasket next to the bed.

They stared solemnly at one another.

“I guess,” said Mike, “that whole plan with the towels and the Febreze is cancelled?”

“Yeah. A little late for that.”

In spite of everything, Harvey still enjoyed lying here next to Mike, so he rearranged the comforter over them, and draped his arm across Mike’s ribs. They contemplated their situation in silence for several minutes.

“Maybe we could climb out the window,” Mike suggested.

“No. We’ll get dressed, and go downstairs to face our friends.”

Mike eyed him, frankly skeptical. “Can we still call them that?”

“We won’t find out until we go downstairs.”

Grumbling, Mike rolled away from Harvey. They both stood and sorted through their clothes, which had been scattered on the floor.

When he was dressed, Mike held his hands out to his sides. “Well? How do I look?”

“Well-fucked.”

“You too. Not to mention adulterous.”

Harvey groaned. “Did you have to remind me? We were only technically adulterous, though.”

Mike gave him an affectionate smile. “Keep telling yourself that, big guy.” The smile slowly faded. “Are you ready?”

“No, but that’s never stopped me before.”

“Okay. Great. Let’s go find out exactly how bad it is.”

Harvey stopped Mike with a hand on his arm, and forced him around to face him. “It’s going to be fine. I promise you.” He kissed him, and was relieved when Mike kissed him back. Maybe it would be fine.

 

*****

 

Downstairs, momentary silence greeted their appearance. Most of their friends sat in the great room holding a drink, even though it was barely past ten in the morning. Rachel stood by herself at the window, arms hugging her chest. When she caught sight of Mike and Harvey, she brushed past them and hurried up the stairs.

“She’s leaving,” said Sheila.

Harvey winced at this news. It wasn’t exactly surprising, but he felt guilty for ruining everyone’s week. Not guilty enough to regret what he and Mike had done, but still.

Jeff toasted Mike and Harvey with his beer bottle.

“So, Harvey,” said Jessica with a smile that was pure mischief, “is there anything you’d like to tell us?”

“Ha ha.”

“Is this funny to you?” asked Donna.

“Not in the slightest.”

“It’s a little funny,” said Jeff.

“You want a drink?” Harvey asked Mike.

“Sure. Why not? Let’s join the party. Or is it a wake?”

In the kitchen, Harvey found an untouched pot of fresh coffee. He filled two mugs two-thirds full, and added a double shot of scotch to each. Back in the great room, he handed a mug to Mike. They sat down next to each other, across from Donna.

No one seemed to know what to say. Harvey decided to go on the offensive.

“Half of you already know this, but I suppose we can tell the rest of you the news now. Donna and I have decided to end the marriage. We’d planned to wait and tell you after the week was over, because we didn’t want our problems to overshadow what should have been a fun week for all of us.

“You and Mike seemed like you were having fun. Ow.” Jeff rubbed his arm where Jessica had punched him.

“Look,” said Harvey, “if anyone else wants to leave, I understand. This doesn’t have to run our week, though. Maybe things are awkward at the moment, but they don’t have to stay that way.”

Louis made a scoffing sound. “I’m sorry Harvey, but I don’t think there is enough alcohol in the world to erase the image from my mind of you … and … and … Mike …” He trailed off, staring into the middle distance and muttering, “And with our lube.”

Mike, who had been quiet as he drank his spiked coffee, spoke up. “Oh, give me a break, Louis. Every year we have to listen to you and Sheila going at it like weasels on meth.”

“How dare you. Whatever you may have heard was only an honest expression of our love.” Seeming to realize what he’d just said, he squinted at Mike and Harvey. “Oh.” His entire face transformed as he grinned at them. “ _Oh._ I knew it.” He jiggled Sheila’s knee. “Didn’t I tell you? Bromance, my ass. I always sensed something more between these two, simmering just under the surface.”

“And they should have kept it there.” Rachel had reappeared, having evidently packed in record time. She carried two suitcases, and her purse down the stairs. “I think you’re both disgusting, and I don’t know how the rest of you can be so casual about this.”

“To be fair,” said Jeff, “we are all drinking heavily. Damn it, babe, you have to stop hitting me.”

 “When did adultery become something to just laugh at and shrug off?”

“What Rachel isn’t telling you,” said Mike, reaching for Harvey’s hand, and holding on tight, “is that she’s already asked me for a divorce, so technically …”

 “All you had to do was make it through this week. One week. Instead, you chose to humiliate me in front of my friends. Well, too bad for you, because now I have witnesses to your infidelity. Don’t even think about trying to squeeze one dime’s worth of alimony out of me. We have one of the best divorce lawyers at our firm, and after she’s through with you, you’ll be lucky if I let you keep the apartment. I’d say you’ll be sleeping in your car, but you don’t even have one of those.”

“Oh, that’s right,” sneered Mike, “let’s focus on our respective assets, because that’s what’s most important in Rachel’s world, right? And if you want to talk about infidelity, let me remind you that you’re still ahead on that score. That’s right, I know about what you were up to last year. Do you want to know why I never confronted you about that? Simple: I didn’t give a shit.  I was half hoping that whoever it was, you cared enough about him to save me the trouble of ending this farce of a marriage. Too bad for us that you were just scratching an itch.””

“Damn you.” She was visibly trembling. “If I’d had a viable alternative waiting for me at home—”

“Okay, you guys,” said Sheila, “This is getting out of hand.”

Rachel wasn’t finished. “Do you want to know who it was? Aren’t you even a little bit curious?”

Harvey was, and a glance around the room told him that everyone else was dying to know too. Everyone except Mike.

“It might have mattered once,” Mike told her, “but not anymore. It’s too late for that.”

“It was Harold.”

“Bullshit.”

Mike’s reflexive denial was nearly drowned out by the reactions of everybody else. Loudest of all, Louis squawked, “Harold Fucking Gunderson? Are you insane?”

“Who is Harold Gunderson?” Jeff stage-whispered to Jessica.

“Not bullshit, Mike. He appreciates me, and made me feel special.” She gave a brittle sounding laugh. “You wouldn’t believe how much he still resents you, for that time in the file room with Donna – ”

The reaction to that bit of news was so loud, that anything else Rachel had to say was drowned out.

“What the hell is she talking about?” Harvey murmured to Mike.

“Donna faked a blow job to get rid of Harold,” Mike whispered back.

“Oh.  Right. As one does.”

“The only one who believed it was Harold, and apparently Rachel.”

Judging by the generalized disbelief and hilarity in the room, their other friends either believed it, or wanted it to be true. It was left to Donna to set them straight.

“Sorry, Rach,” she said, raising her voice to gain everybody’s attention, “but that never happened. You know Harold.”

“In the biblical sense,” interjected Jeff.

Donna sighed gustily. “Nevertheless. Harold saw what he wanted to see. For the record, I’ve never blown Mike.”

“Me neither. Ow. _Babe_ , seriously.” Jeff rubbed his arm again.

“I feel a game of ‘Never Have I Ever’ coming on,” said Louis.

Mike surged to his feet and paced around the room, gesticulating, and spilling spiked coffee all over the floor.  “That’s enough. Rachel’s right. This isn’t funny.”

He stopped in front of her, where she stood at the bottom of the stairs, and downed the rest of his drink. Harvey was impressed that he didn’t even flinch at the strong concoction.

“I’m sorry this is how it’s ending, but I’m not going to apologize for what happened. For years, I did my best to make our marriage work. I treated you like a princess, but that wasn’t good enough for you.”

“A princess?” Rachel pressed her lips together and stared up at the ceiling, as if searching for strength. “Mike, how in the hell are you going to treat me like royalty, when you settled for being nothing more than … than the stable boy?”

Deafening silence fell. Any residual humor in the room dried up and blew away at her cruel words.

“Oh,” said Mike, sounding gut-punched, “okay. That’s …” He whirled away, stalked back to the kitchen, and poured straight scotch into his mug.

Harvey stood, torn between going to Mike, and ripping into Rachel. Sheila saved him from having to choose.

“I’ll drive Rachel to the closest car rental location. Does anyone else want to leave with her?” She looked pointedly at Donna, who appeared to think about it, before giving a tight nod.

Jeff and Jessica shared a long look. “Maybe we should be getting back to Chicago,” she said. “There’s a lot going on there right now.”

In the end, they all agreed that their yearly vacation was officially over. Harvey let Donna go up first to pack, and then went up and did the same. When everyone was assembled downstairs again, with all of their luggage, a brief, dispirited argument broke out over who should drive. They’d all been drinking, but Harvey had only taken a couple sips, and pointed that out. He ultimately claimed the keys to the van.

Working in near complete silence, they worked together to load up the van. Mike took the passenger seat next to Harvey, while their soon-to-be-ex-wives retreated to the far back together.

As Harvey put the van into gear, and prepared to leave, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around, and Louis handed him a slip of paper.

“What’s this?” A website address was scribbled on the paper in Louis’ handwriting.

“That’s the only place you can get it. The lube. Our special lube. You don’t know it yet, but you’ve been spoiled now for anything else. All other lubes are inferior. Don’t thank me. Just take the note and we will agree to never speak of this again.”

Harvey cut his gaze over to Mike, to find him biting his lip, fighting a smile. Harvey was not similarly amused. All he wanted was to get himself and Mike home, and wipe the last hour from his mind. “Agreed.”

Louis was still talking. “Is it too soon to talk about where we’re going next year?”

Nobody answered him. At that moment, Harvey couldn’t imagine agreeing to another week like this one. It was over. The band was splitting up, and they wouldn’t be getting back together.

The only thought that made it bearable, preventing what might have been the panic attack to end all panic attacks, was that he finally had a future with Mike. He could make it through all of the upcoming divorce drama, as long as he had Mike at his side.

 

 

**One Year Later**

 

“Are you sure we’re even going in the right direction?”  Mike peered out the car window at the Douglas firs and hemlocks that crowded the narrow rural road.

“GPS lady says yes.” Harvey reached across the center console and snared Mike’s hand, holding it in his own, and felt him instantly settle.

It had been a long, sometimes frustrating day of travel. As the newcomer to the group, Benjamin had been allowed to select their destination this year. Somehow, he’d managed to find a location northwest of Seattle which required fully three stages of transportation to reach.

Mike and Harvey had boarded a plane early that morning, rented a car at the airport when they arrived, driven two hours north, half a mile west, and waited for another two hours to board a ferry. Now, with the sun beginning to set, they were within a mile of their goal – or so said the GPS lady.

“You’d never know we were on an island,” said Mike. “Where’s the water?”

“Our cabins are right at the edge of the Sound, according to Benjamin. I checked the place out online, and it looks nice.”

“Yeah? I checked the place out online, and it looks rustic as fuck.”

“Should be right up your alley, then.” Harvey gave his hand a squeeze. “What’s up with you, sweetheart? You seem on edge.”

“Of course, I’m on edge. Who wouldn’t be, after this freaking Planes Trains and Automobiles nightmare odyssey of a day? What was Benjamin thinking? There are plenty places he could have chosen on the east coast.”

“This isn’t so bad. Remember when Sheila dragged us all to Buenos Aires?”

Mike smiled at the memory. “Learning to tango was fun. You looked so hot with that dance instructor. And the food was good.”

“True. We should go back sometime, just the two of us. I wouldn’t mind trying a tango with you.”

Mike laughed. “Sadly, I’d probably crush your toes. I’ll never be able to move the way you do.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. You do all right.” He gave him a sultry look. “In bed.”

Even after a full year together, Harvey loved that he could still make Mike blush.

The GPS lady issued her final instructions. Harvey took a right turn off the narrow road, to an even narrower dirt road, and they bumped over ruts and exposed tree roots until Mike pointed to their left.

“There! I see water. And there are Jessica and Jeff.  Looks like we’re second to arrive.”

“Good. Let’s hurry up and get checked in. At least we’ll get our pick of one of the remaining three cabins.”

 

Mike insisted they take the cabin closest to the water.  

“That’s … really close,” Harvey noted, eying the gentle lapping of saltwater a scant five feet from their front door. Orange marker buoys for crab pots bobbed in the water at irregular intervals. The light of the full moon gave them the appearance of a menacing, invading alien army, climbing up out of the ocean.

“It’s romantic,” said Mike.

“How romantic will it be at high tide, when we’re wading through half a foot of water in the living room.”

Benjamin shook his head. “If there was any danger of that, these cabins would have been washed out to sea already. They were built nearly a hundred years ago.”

“They look it,” Harvey muttered, mostly in the interest of being contrary. He had a reputation to uphold, after all. Plus, it still irritated him that Benjamin had been slotted into the group, without so much as a vote. He liked Benjamin well enough, and he didn’t begrudge him, or Donna, their newfound happiness. It was a long way from that, however, to wanting to spend an entire week in his company – or hers, for that matter.

He watched the fire in the pit, with sparks spiraling up into the inky night air. Dinner was over, marshmallows had been toasted, and now the eight of them relaxed around the fire, asking one another the obligatory questions as they got caught up on the past year.

“Has anybody heard from Rachel?” asked Louis.

Mike no longer flinched when he heard her name, but he didn’t volunteer an answer. Harvey jumped in to fill the suddenly awkward silence.

“She took that job in London. Evidently, she met some guy. I hear that wedding bells are imminent.

“That’s good,” said Louis, smiling wistfully. “I’m glad she finally found her Prince Charming.”

“Hey!” Mike glared at Louis.

“Come on, Mike. You know what I mean.”

Harvey patted Mike’s knee. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. You’ll always be my Prince Charming.”

“Speaking of which,” said Jessica, “is everything set for tomorrow?”

Donna nodded. “Benjy and I hauled the cake up here from Seattle. There’s a place near the ferry terminal where we can buy fresh flowers.”

“That’s about all we need,” said Mike. “We wanted to keep things simple. Oh, and if you think I’m going to let that nickname slide, Benjy …”

“Let it go,” Benjamin warned, “or I’ll hack into the legal clinic and …” He narrowed his eyes.

“And what?”

“I don’t know. Give me some time to come up with something worse than working there.”

“Dude. To think, I gave you my bacon, back in the day. First of all, I’m only there two days a week now. And secondly, why does she get to call you Benjy, when I couldn’t even get away with Ben?”

“If you think about that for more than two seconds,” interjected Donna, with a wicked gleam in her eye, “I think you’ll figure it out.”

Harvey sipped his Macallan 18, as content as he’d been all year. He let the good-natured insults and jokes wash over him, wondering how a heartless son-of-a-bitch like himself had gotten so lucky. He was marrying his best friend tomorrow, and his was still friends with his ex-wife, who he once might have called his best friend. It wasn’t so much life coming full circle, he mused. It more closely resembled a Mobius strip, where if you simply kept moving forward, everything came back around to where it was supposed to be.

He caught Mike’s hand in his, and lifted it to his lips to give him a tender kiss. Someone – probably either Louis or Jeff – made a gagging noise. Harvey didn’t care. He ignored them all, because he only had eyes for Mike.

 

**The End.**

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
